When I lift the lid, I automatically I look over my shoulder--on alert--trying to sniff out the origin of the rubbery smell that tricks my sense of smell into believing something is on fire. Merrell makes some of the best shoes; they just need to work on getting rid of the offensive odor that clings to everything under the box's lid. If I pause long enough to go off alert, the smell takes me back to childhood. I never stay long enough to uncover the memory that's not as unpleasant as my brain insists.
The box is sturdy; worth saving. Inside, neatly stacked new postcards and a Frommer's map of Italy, lays nestled among the sheet of tissue paper. It's a good thing I looked inside during my search, or I wouldn't have found them until months later. Thanks Mrs. Duffy. Thanks for hoping I would find them. I mailed one to you this afternoon. Hope you like it.
Wolfey, I tore the map from my Frommer's guide. I like maps. I laid the dream of Italy aside. The guide is 3 years old, anyway. I'll buy another if the mood grabs me before I grow too old to remember what Italy is. Merrell's box is ideal for postcards, small maps, and other memories in need of keeping. See the stack on the right? Well, 11 or 12 of those cards went out in today's mail. It's a good feeling. I always feel like I've accomplished something after a mail run.
I held on to the vanity cat card until I couldn't. I like that cat. She's being vain--sitting atop someone's vanity. She once was lost, but now she's been found . . . Safe and sound and homeward bound.