1930 Pieces of string and bad photographs

Years ago I heard a story (maybe on Paul Harvey) about a frugal lady who died. In cleaning out her home her children found a ball of string labeled, "Pieces of string too short to use." We are in the midst of a huge housecleaning and room shift, which involves all our art materials, paper scraps, old references from yellowed newspapers, dried up watercolor tubes, maskoid and gesso that's looking doubtful, old supply catalogs and rusty paper clips. I found a large file box full of photos and negatives that we'd forgotten about because we stored it so well. So I'm trying to sort and pitch. I found one envelop labeled, "Bad photos of paintings." Obviously, my frugal husband's work.

We also traded a small 24" bookshelf for a larger 36" one with our son. Originally, the whole set was ours, but one unit was too big, we thought, and let him use it when we moved here. Now after rearranging, we have room for the larger one, but not the smaller unit. So my husband drove there today and made the trade. After some struggle and maneuvering, we got it past light fixtures and down a turning staircase and set up where we wanted it. As it warmed up from the cold, the entire lower level of our house began to smell like cigarette smoke. If wood absorbs this much smoke in 4 years and has to gas out, imagine what's happening to his lungs, liver, kidneys, skin, hair, tongue, etc. which have been enduring this torture for over 20 years. Sigh. And I took such good care of him as he was growing up.

Disclaimer: he reads my blog.