EVIDENTLY I HAVE NO CLASS

I was recently telling some friends about the time the Salvation Army refused some of my furniture.

I know.

My furniture was not good enough for the thrift store.

I have never been so indignant in all my life.

I had this sofa to get rid of and, to be honest, the only reason we were getting rid of it was that I was bored with it. It had a small tear in the upholstery but it was by no means a piece of poo. I also had some bar stools to get rid of. Rather than try to sell them through an ad in the paper or by word of mouth, we decided to donate them.

So I called the Salvation Army and arranged a pickup time.

The big truck backed into our driveway and I opened the garage door and showed them the furniture I was wanting them to have, fully expecting them to heave it all into their big truck, hand me a receipt and drive away. But NOOOOO.

Um...we can't take those.

Wait, what?

See that tear there in the sofa? We can't take furniture in that kind of shape. Also, these bar stools? They have some scratches on them here, here and here. We can't take furniture with that kind of damage.

Wait, what?

Sorry, we can't take it.

But...I....um....er....uh...wait, what? My furniture isn't good enough for the Salvation Army? No offense to your organization but.... wait, what?

Apparently, I am also quite eloquent when I'm being insulted.

So, they didn't take my furniture.

THE SALVATION ARMY REFUSED TO TAKE MY FURNITURE.

If that's not a blow to one's sense of style and decor, I don't know what is.

Fast forward several years to, well, today.

I have a couple of workers here fixing up our door situation.

The man who is going to paint our front door was looking at the inside of the door to decide how to paint it to match the new surrounding trim he is installing.

He pointed to the border around the oval window in our door, rubbed his finger on it and said:

Ma'am, this doesn't have to be painted. You can just wipe it off.

Wait, what?

OHHHHH! I can clean that? Well, that IS a good idea.

Now I think his partner was a little embarrassed that the guy just told me to clean my door better, but I was laughing and, to tell you the truth, I don't think either one of them gets my sense of humor.

Imagine that.

I have never claimed to be the best of housekeepers. In fact, oddly enough, I was a better housekeeper when the kids were little. Now? With the schedules of two busy teenagers, something's gotta give.

And it's been the housework.

But, come on. How many of you think to clean the trim around the window in your front door on a weekly basis?

But to be told by a construction worker that my cleaning standards may not be up to par?

That is as bad as say...I don't know....having your furniture rejected by the Salvation Army. But wait, that happened too.

So I give up. I'm off to shoot me a squirrel for dinner and then I have to whip up some flour sack dresses for me and the younguns. We gotta look spiffy this weekend 'cause two of our cousins are getting married - to each other.