I have an antique dresser I got from my Mom. When she died, of course, since before then she was still using it. Beautiful cherry wood (I think) with a marble slab top. I moved it into the bedroom and have been using the top two drawers for my son’s socks and T-shirts and stuff. The third drawer is full of wooden puzzles. The BOTTOM drawer is still full of whatever my Mom had in it while SHE was using it.
On a whim this morning, as I was pulling out clean clothes for my son to wear to school, I decided to dig through the bottom drawer. Standard stuff, mostly–a handbag that had never been used, a glue gun, and a number of canvases for needle point (Mom was an artiste in that regard, tell you!). Also, this:
“WTF?!” does not suffice in this instance, Friends and Neighbors. This is my mother’s dresser drawer. In fact, it USED to be my blue blooded, “Before Truth, The Correct FORK!” Grandmother’s dresser drawer. No, the correct question is: What in the name of little green apples on God’s half acre is THIS thing???
“WITNOLGAOGHAITT???”–for those of you who do better with acronyms.
Needless to say, I am flummoxed, which requires no acronym. Here’s a close up of the print on the exterior:
My son and I plugged it in. We turned it on, even, and then leapt away from the thing as it came to life buzzing like an angry ungainly wasp, juttering and skipping across the kitchen counter. We spent a moment looking at each other in complete mystification, and then my son said, “Thea, let’s just turn it off and unplug it, put it back, okay?”
No no! Pictures! And Facebook. Not to mention that modern Oracle, Google–which I haven’t had the courage yet to consult.
Knock yourselves out, folks. What is it? And why? And what social enlightenment of a bygone age can be disinterred?
And please! Have no concern for my cherished illusions.