I know, I know. Don’t remind me. I’m in de-stuffing mode. Just moments ago, it seems, I wrote about how burdened I feel by all my excess stuff — how utterly, urgently, madly desperate I am to rid myself of clutter. Oh, poor, poor, poor pitiful me!
Yes, yes, I know I claim to crave some zen-like purity and simplicity of thought and environment.
Still.
Some thrift-store items truly are like pound puppies, practically whining and giving that big, sad-eye “Oh, please take me home ’cause I need you so badly!” look. To wit:
You have to understand. It’s not the trayness of this tray that made me have to give it a home this afternoon. It’s the story.

