368 The job jar dwindles--pt. 3, Getting ready for the painter

I adore my son-in-law. After I handed my husband the list of 14 major in-house moves necessary before the painter comes, tastefully illustrated with clip art of a painter putting paint on the wall, he called Mark. He is very strong, cheerful, and formerly worked for a moving company. He knows every trick in the book. And I get a big sweaty hug when he is finished. Major moves so the painter could get to the walls included the desk, on which resided 2 printers, 2 speakers, a router and a scanner, as well as all the computer stuff; 2 large dressers and a dressing table; miscellaneous framed pictures; a double bed; a bookcase full of photo albums; an exercycle and an aerobo-something (like a rowing machine); and all the stuff that resided under the double bed--including the porta-crib.

I had forgotten the porta-crib and my decision to stop grieving about not ever being a grandmother, but there it was: 37 years old and waiting like an abandoned puppy, reminding me about why I'd saved it all these years. It's in the garage now, and it is a toss up whether it will go to a garage sale or the trash pick-up. No one uses wooden portable cribs anymore, and you probably can't find a mattress for one. They fit beautifully in the back seat of a sedan, with two legs on the floor, but it is illegal to let a cranky baby sleep like that without being strapped in sitting up the way we did in the 60s.

I suppose you could restrain a dog in one of these, but even my grand-puppy is an 18 year old chihuahua.