Photo of Paul Nerren's Junk Barn, Lufkin Texas... where some of my junk actually came from.
At first glance, my house looks like a tornado stricken disaster pile. It should be condemned.
On closer inspection, there are kitschy vintage objects and books in the mix, along with important papers, marbles, sketchbooks and art supplies, fabrics and unfinished quilt projects, arrowheads, carnival glass, and whatever else doesn't have a shelf yet, or was used by one of us and left to have to be hunted for by the next person, since we are all about ten years old here and can't seem to keep organized. I managed to ditch a lot of knicknacks and crap when the house burnt down, but here I am again 1 1/2 years later with my shelves, most have been painted, but I am undecided how or where to install them, so boxes are on the floor in the corners still with my books and records and journals and National Lampoons and music memorabilia. Yesterday I had to move aside three custom built guitars, an antique picnic basket, my Granny's carpetbag purse and two PeeWee Herman dolls to find a bag of cassette tapes. This morning, Scott grabs the nearest object to remove a spider that scurried across the floor... "STOP!" I shout, "Not my 1967 copy of Poor Man's Rice cookbook. And not the Baby Huey comic book. Use the want ads please."
Yeah, so, my house needs a serious overhaul. The shelves need to be put up, the books need to be put on them and I really wish someone would just renovate the bathroom.
