Thursday, April 10, 2008

A Tisket, A Tasket, Just Not Another Basket!


My wife is the Queen of Storage. I’ll walk out of a room full of items in our tiny house as she sighs, “Where am I gonna put all this stuff?” Moments later I’ll return and everything’s gone.

I have no idea where some of it goes. I leave large vases on the back room counter because there’s just nowhere to put them. I come back later and they’ve disappeared without a trace. I’ll search every cabinet high and low, twice, with no luck. Then I’ll bring home flowers, and Nancy will say, “Oh, yea!” step into the back room, and return seconds later with three large vases in hand.

“Where the heck were those?” I demand.
“In the cabinet,” she says.

Right. The hidden, secret spy false-wall cabinet built by moonshiners during the Prohibition, I suppose. It’s like turning your back on David Copperfield at Ellis Island, then looking back and *poof!* the Statue of Liberty is gone. Then your turn around once more, and it’s back again.

But my wife can do it with everything.
Well, almost everything.

There is one item she hasn’t conquered, one trick she has yet to master. The ultimate disappearing trick of them all: the Mystery of the Vanishing Wicker Baskets.

If you have even one, you can imagine. If you have several, you know my pain:

They can’t go on the shelf cuz they’re just too tall.
They can’t go in the cabinet cuz they’re wider than the wall.
Forget about the closet cuz the door won’t close.
Can’t hang them from the ceiling cuz they’ll smack you in the nose.

And you can’t get rid of any of them, because this one was expensive, and that one was a gift, and we actually used the brown one once about six years ago.

“Just put them in the garage,” comes the voice of wisdom.

Ah, yes, the Room of Impossibly Shaped Items, where the lawn mower and the bikes and the 16-foot tall, 200-pound patio umbrella all dwell in lonely, motionless silence.

But not the baskets. Their shapes and sizes (and handles!) refuse to cooperate. The first three let you stack them easily on the ledge, so that when you push your luck and set the fourth one on top, they can all leap off and bounce around to the ground together. You’re sure you hear them whisper, “Yee-haw!” and “Kowabunga!” and “Aim for his nose!”

So if anyone can get me in touch with David Copperfield, I’ll send you a gift basket.

12 comments:

  1. Love this post Bill! You just about summed up our house as well.
    Karla

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  2. Great story... you make me laugh every time I read one of your adventures

    HUGS

    JO

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  3. Great post! I have a love/hate relationship with all of my baskets. I love them for their versatility and beauty. I hate them because they're so difficult to store. So, it's into the attic with them. I do try to separate them, though, lest they conspire to create an avalanche of wicker and burry the next poor soul who ventures up there unawares.

    Blessings!

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  4. I believe it is a genetic thing with baskets. And, all of our baskets are cousins - first cousins, first cousins once, twice, three times removed - all the way to tenth cousins.

    It all began with a basket belonging to Adam and Eve. And, we know what they placed in their basket. Baskets are like rabbits constantly reproducing.

    Our comfort can be that we are all in this together.

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  5. Thanks for stopping by my blog. :) I have always had my baskets displayed in plain sight- at one time in an artistic jumble on top of our entertainment center, now displayed on top of my china cabinet in the kitchen (it gives a certain European ambience to the room). Fortunately no one can see them close enough to notice the dust... They are also joined by the knitting needles one of the kids nearly put their eye out with (and I am not willing to part with, but haven't properly put away), a confiscated game, a newspaper my husband wants to clip a photo out of (now forgotten) and my husband's certificate of completion for a fireman's course (still in its over sized envelope). Those items have lessened the casual artistry of my basket display, but its REAL now, less contrived. lol

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  6. This is such a perfect post as my husband constantly asks about the collection of baskets and why we have so many... your blog is simply divine. Off to enjoy more.

    Kristen

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  7. Karin (creativechaos)April 23, 2008 at 8:48 AM

    Oh boy....I can totally realte to this one.....something about those wicker baskets.... :)

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  8. just found your blog and really enjoyed it! will be back
    smiles,
    Sandy

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  9. I have the opposite issue. My husband makes things disappear and reappear... After 16 years of this so called -MAGIC- I think the method to his madness is the ATTIC! I think that's it! It's good to know I'm not alone.

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  10. Thank you for stopping by and for the nice comments.
    Love your posts. They made me smile.
    Thanks for your invite to write about "I Never Got to Thank you". This is such a great idea. I will need to get my letter together and submit.

    Irma

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  11. I love that the garage is the "Room of Impossibly Shaped Items"--so true! I sympathise with both you and Nancy about the bakets. Alas, I have no basket collectionb, but my mom has dozens--baskets for gathering flowers, Easter baskets, gift baskets, etc. They are useful, but storing them is impossible. Thanks for another great post!

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  12. hilarious! Good to know that my husbands not alone in despising the basket of wicker. Whenever I would acquire one from a well meaning family member, my husband would look at me and ask "WHY DO YOU HATE ME?" Partially bc they tend to become junk collectors/ hot spots/ catch alls in our home and he cant stand clutter. Recently there has been a total ban placed on these items and I don't really miss them. I think we have only 2 rogue baskets yet to get the boot!

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