Cleaning out the cellar/garage is always stressful.
I have no problem dealing with the hemisphere's largest collection of AC adapters, and tens of yards of cables that support obsolete computer protocols. My kids will be speechless, no doubt, with this portion of their inheritance.
But I am stumped with what to do with my bronzed baby shoes.
Like Captain Hook's crocodile, these things have stalked me for almost seven decades, through nearly a dozen homes and apartments in multiple states.
Lord knows, I never consciously packed them for a move. I would have deposited with my parents or grandparents, the ones guilty of having commissioned their infernal fabrication. Alas, they protested. Their mindset was they were my custom metallic footwear and, thus, my problem.
I always forget about them until, one day, I spot an unopened box from a prior relocation and... there they are, dustily forcing themselves back into my life.
Can they be melted down, recycled in some way to perform some useful purpose? Serve as the first footwear for a baby cylops?
For a brief time I used them as bookends. But then we adopted two cats and, while those things weigh a ton, the felines seemed intent on pushing them off the upper shelf of my workstation and onto either me or one of the dogs.
Maybe I'll just bury them in the backyard. Should confuse the hell out of some alien archaeologist in a century or two.
Categories: Bronzed Baby Shoes, KGB
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