With the you know allegedly looming, we’re sort of starting to go through stuff. The realtor has said not to pack – we might jinx it – but editing is ok. So today I’m in the garage tossing out vases (not the good ones, just the ones that come with the flowers deliveries with that textured glass, the kind of textured glass that my gramma had on a lamp, except that the lamp was sort of amber colored) from the cabinet above the washing machine and I find my high school yearbook from senior year. No, I’m not going to post a picture. That’s not why I’m mentioning it. Anyway, we had to do Senior Wills. Remember? You “will” things to your friends, little brothers, lower classmen. I’m reading them and, of course, there are things you'd expect – lockers, gym socks, silly sayings, parking spots, old tests, the head cheerleader spot. But what I had to laugh about is this: Mitch willed me a lifetime subscription to the J.Crew catalogue. If he only knew.
What'd I leave in my will? A number of things that make no sense to me today, but to Mitch, I left the blonde model from the J.Crew catalogue. And to my brother? My grades. Sadly, in 1989, I was that girl.
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