Cowboy Down - A Conversation Between Two Professional Thrift Shoppers - Part Twelve (B) - "Risk"

Cowboy Down

A Conversation Between Two Professional Thrift Shopprs

Part Twelve (B)

"Risk"

            “While I was saying that; ‘SHE’S BUYING IT’, a whole mountainside of mentally stored FACTS collapsed from its... internal mountainside memory storage... distribution... poise...  avalanching THROUGH my frontal eye-to-mind amphitheatre  (forehead region) to... just above the eyes and... ‘was about to’...:

            “That’s another four-five-six seconds?  Whose counting?   What happened?  IN those seconds; WITHIN those seconds?”

            “I:  ‘That is a mid-eighteenth century French (Rouen) Delft (‘Faience’) charger (large serving platter).  I know that because it is in that Deerfield book.  Yeah that one is identical and is ALSO in the Deerfield Delft book too; that same charger, but THERE it is collaborated of it’s New England usage service (heritage) by a Middletown, CT – Wesleyan University archeological outhouse (‘privy’) (old fashion toilet) ‘dig’ fragment identification... by a broken but nearly ‘all there’ identical charger PICTURED (too) (in color) in that (Deerfield) Delft book I...”

            “Know this; what she is clutching:  THAT IS ONE:  IT IS IT.”

            “Right.  Soooo... She turns to further face down the isle away from me but then (two seconds total?) radically turns back to her right, bends over and down, shoves the charger back on to the bottom china isle shelf while raising her head and... is... yelling ‘ZEE-nah WAIT’ down the isle as she takes off (scampers) away down the isle LEAVING THE CHARGER on the bottom self.  I am there (upon it, grabbing it) in two more seconds (probably less) in the ‘it’s MINE’ in hand and I am, now three more seconds, examining the BACK of the charger to positively affirm (this taking but one second more) that ‘it is real’ and that this ‘really happened’ or is ‘still really happening’. Is it?”

            “How many seconds in total?” 

“UNDER twelve seconds this WHOLE... identified antiques acquisition... took leaving me ‘standing there’... HOLDING THE CHARGER up side down and the She... gone.  ‘OVER’... it is as I notice the two ‘old staple repairs’ on the ‘oven blackened back.  That back blacking is, correctly understand, colonial NEW ENGLAND fireplace kitchen beehive bake OVEN blackened meaning;  PIES were baked in this ...once ‘serving’ charger... that then had fallen away, as a design form (French Delft serving vessels), to become ‘out of fashion (no longer used)’ so had become ‘repurposed’ (in the sense of today’s trendy and foppy decorator’s lingo) in the colonial home as a ‘PIE PLATE’ for ‘baking pies’.  Here I serve notice that... that usage... and the newly introduced (ca. 1780s) DESIGN FORM of baking dishes especially designed IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA for ‘baking apple pies’ (that design form) titled ‘pie plates’:  Oh no and oh yes; ‘American as apple pie’:  There were no ‘pie plates’ by title until the United States introduced the design form ‘late’ (after redware pottery had been an American ceramic industry for over one hundred years); past the mid eighteenth century ALTHOUGH ‘baking fruit pies’ was rising in popularity ‘prior to’ (the introduction of the ‘pie plate’ ‘baking dish’) making the usage adoption (repurposing) of THIS CHARGER ‘a natural’ ‘repurposing’.  YIKES:”

            “And that’s all true and.... ‘How many seconds’ did this take?  And what does this have to do with ‘risk’... in thrift stores?”

            Well:  Are you ‘ZEE-nah’?  Are you She (in the silver foil rocker boots throwing ‘it’ back)?  Or are you me?”  Risk is a variable.  One controls.  Ah...:  Let use documentation and work with that while drifting towards... ah... ‘risk’.

            The worse part of the army of design back ground I brought to the ceramic isle discernment is the first reference book I mentally mention... to myself (not you).  In total, this is the third blog ‘story’ that I have specifically referred to... not only this book... but the SAME specific pages in that book.  Ironically... it is ... in my favor?  That book gained an expressive three paragraph notice in the SECOND reference usage.  That came after the first relevant object denotation... found in another earlier story... that happened to have the odd luck of ‘being on the same page’ ‘too’.  Stepping past ‘isn’t that (being on the same page) CUTE’ I re-state the... emphatic... useful... relevance...  of THAT BOOK and those pages by (1) observing my absurd ‘luck’ of this French ‘Rouen’ charger ALSO being in the book and on the same... God damn pages... BUT TOO I here below reproduce the (three paragraphs) of TEXT... from the second story.  Some of the re-quote is relevant only to THAT story but I include it for it does hint at ‘using design to critique’.  This is cut and pasted from the long... tale (available in this blog’s archives) titled “SUMMER PLACE” (Part Thirty-Five B):

            Philip Zea, “PURSUING REFINEMENT IN RURAL NEW ENGLAND 1740-1850’, Historic Deerfield, Deerfield, MA, 1998.  This may be considered a flawless peek at ‘good taste in New England decorative arts’.  Hardcover or paperback; buy the hardcover.  The paperback wears... out.  The hardcover costs a lot more... if a copy can be found.

            On page 60 at Figure 84 our visiting eye... has already ‘I spy’... what they ‘Figure 84 – Platter”.  In color.  Nice.  There is no positive arts (design qualities) mentioned in the Deerfield history focused descriptive text.  In the text they also positively mention the New England preference for the ‘dark’ blue.  The reverse of that positive is the ...legacy... negative of the English mocking Americans for this  preference for ‘dark’ blue... that stands to this day... and DOES qualify one’s art eye when ‘looking’ at transferware... but that is too much for today’s lesson.  Rest assured:  Point upon point upon New England good taste point is found... in this book.

            As a spot-focus on ‘I am trying to tell a bigger tale’ from within these stories, vignettes and pontificates, this actual page in the book; page sixty... with the platter at the bottom... JUMPS at the top of the next page; sixty-one... to ‘Figure 87 – Tobacco Tongs’, with description ...that again focuses on Deerfield history.  These are ‘Pipe Tongs’ by consensual lay antiquarian title, ...and... ‘A SET’ of pipe tongs were the subject of a whole tale by I; “A DOOR KNOCK”, a nine part tale (also available in blog archives).  The tongs at Deerfield are ‘signed’ ‘American’.  The tongs in the tale were ‘unsigned’.  But:  The ‘lines’ (‘design’)  of the story’s tongs ...were ‘better’.  The Zea set is ‘a little clunky’.

            Now, in this tale of the thrift shop professionals talking, I return again to this same book and same pages for... ABOVE the (transferware) platter on page 60... is shown a French ‘Rouen’ charger... ‘identical’ to this thrift store china shelf throw back... BUT:  I know more for I... being design infatuated I (eye), humbly added a second Deerfield ‘reference book’ to my... I (eye):  Amanda E. Lange DELFTWARE AT HISTORIC DEERFIELD 1600-1800, Deerfield, 2001, here using page 84, figure 26 and number 44.  This reference shows the fragment charger from Middletown, CT and, again, the charger in the Deerfield collection, with text.

            Ok... so that is what rolls down the mental mountain first.  A few seconds later I am ‘holding hands’ upon the charger and look at its back to affirm MORE.  The more is the usage history of the once charger being converted to a ...baking dish... to ...bake pies... in a colonial New England fireplace kitchen.  I... design I (eye) again using the ‘know this’ that ‘pie plates’ were (are) an American design innovation and that THIS French ‘Faience’ charger ‘was used for that’.  For this ramshackle yet GLORY ‘American as apple pie’ design iota... I go back to about 1973-74 when I was studying American ceramic design ‘traditions’ (histories) ‘in college’ and ‘always remember reading’ Edwin Atlee Barber’s TULIP WARE OF THE PENNSYLVNIA-GERMAN POTTERS AN (sic) HISTORICAL SKETCH OF THE ART OF SLIP-DECORATION IN THE UNITED STATES, NY, Dover, 1970... who on pages 101-102 explains ‘this’ (America as apple pie PLATES) ...WITH... a further reference to “Mercer” ...the ‘Mercer tool book’.  Just to really rap the reader on the head about the use of reference books... by I (eye)... ‘Mercer’ appears WITH a discussion of Eric Sloan books in a rather long tale on this blog: (Coy – Part Nine – “Crazy Man” – [C]).  The point, for this tale, is that I am ‘in isle’ at a thrift store using ‘stuff’ I read FORTY years ago AND was studied in Barber’s reference to Mercer... then... TOO.  So... like... loose the silver foil booties?  If your gonna loose the risk...

            Doing this?

            I am not done.  What about those ‘staple repairs’?   “WOW!” and ...what does that mean.  WELL... romantic conjecture gives us, option one, that ‘a collector’ once owned this rejected pie plate and ‘had it’s (old usage) crack ‘fixed’ (stabilized)... for their ‘collection’ of ‘Delftware’ found in Colonial New England.  OR... option two... one ‘knows’ that ‘they did (were doing) staple repairs’ a LONG, long time ago so that it COULD mean that Mrs. Colonial Fireplace Kitchen Grandmother herself... who used this ‘pie plate’ to ‘bake apple pies’ for her... WHOLE LIFE... after getting ‘it’ (the pie plate baking dish) from HER mother... ‘had it stapled’ (to stabilize the usage crack) and KEPT ON USING IT UNTIL ...she died... and it.... started ITS journey (Part Seven) to the thrift store.

            “It’s still on its journey!”
            “Yeah but I, ah, moved its decimal place (increased it’s dollar value as an art object).

            “It’s really a wonderful thing.  And it has a wonderful story.”
            “Yeah but they (the reader) doesn’t care about that.  All they care about is the money.  The risk.”

            “How can you not love this thing?”

            “Because your greedy and insensitive.  That’s why your in the thrift shore?  Because your greedy and insensitive?  How does THAT affect risk?”

            “Weeding your garden; that’s what YOUR risk at thrift stores is”.

            “Yours too.  Well... it’s actually sort of the opposite.”

Coy - Appendix - "The Library" - "Good Question"

Coy

Appendix

"The Library"

"Good Question"

            “Good Question”.

            I hate that; that verbal tennised ball tunk of a...

Line of REASON.

            My reason?

            NOT YOUR REASON.

            Patronizing.

            Greedy?

            “Equipment failure?”

            “Stand back behind the... red velvet cables please”.

            Put out the orange cones.

            Settle back in your grandfather’s ...mangy old armchair

            After selecting an ‘old volume’; an ‘odd volume’... to

            “Peruse you say?”

            Your damn finger prints are the only DUST SMUDGE on

            The top spine end edge of the

            NOT BEEN OFF THE SHELF SINCE

            Great grandpa...

            “Yeah”.

            That right....:  He didn’t read the damn book EITHER.

            It... was ‘too dull’ “after a few pages”

            “I nodded off”

            “I think”.

            The Savage Estate “Library” (Part Twenty-Two at the very end and Part Twenty-Three [A]); the room... lined with floor to ceiling bookshelves ‘filled’ with “OLD BOOKS” and... desks “FULL” of “OLD PAPERS” and... “BOXES OF OLD LETTERS” and... an old mirror hanging on the wall with a cloth over it to “HIDE” the “old sea captain’s” FACE that’s “your SUPPOSE to be able to  SEE IT (his face) THEY SAY”.

            “Jesus... Christ” and they; the local outsiders (insiders?)... DO ASK

            About it (“THAT LIBRARY”)

            “IN THERE”.

            For the first five years... ‘or so’... they “PRETTY GOOD LIBRARY (of rare books) IN THERE I HEAR”... to me.  The last decade... after the first five years... the same THEY... figures I already “GOT IT” ‘in boxes’ so’s I’s ah gonna ....HAVE ‘em ALL OVER TO THE BARN and let ‘em have a

            “RARE BOOK PICK” “I just was ah hope that I’s ah COULD... LOOK... around?”

            “Good Question.

            You miserable old duck scrotum.”

            “BRING YOUR (old) BOOK BAG; WE’RE gonna have a (rare) BOOK HUNT”

            “Can I just get in a little EARLY because I don’t DO WELL in the CROWDS”.

            “Good Question.”

            That room; the “library”, Helen keeps... had keeped... had kept... has kept... IS KEEPING... LOCKED (“you out”) WITH... the key locking the door to the room STILL IN THE  KEY hole where it has always been.  SHE... unlocks it and ...LOCKS IT... when ever she what ever.  THE KEY... ‘stays put’ and NO ONE

            ELSE

            EVER goes in there that I know of ...except ME... on odd occasion ...with Helen... for a few minutes.

            NO RARE BOOKS ...or ANY old book or... ANY BOOK.  “PAPERS”, OLD PAPERS, LETTERS, old photographs... OR... OR... .OR... have “EVER” “LEFT” that room (THE LIBRARY).

            AND I DON’T CARE

            TOO.

            And I told you why.

            Way back when;

            “That Savage Estate

             IS DRY”. (Part Twenty-Two)

            What that means ‘in the library’... and starting with the ‘old books’... is that ALL of them “OLD BOOKS”... not only are not worth any money but are also of ZERO interest to “ANYONE” other than their ‘decorative value’... because NO ONE... ever, will ever, wants to ever, is going to ever and “EVER”, etc.,... ‘gonna read ‘em’.

            EXCEPT FOR YOU, of course, whose MORAL hygiene mantras “WILL MAKE YOU (me?)”... READ... every damn book ‘in there’?

            BOSTON... in, for example, 1867... was a New England book publishing hub (Hartford CT was too) with MANY... published books; ‘enough to go around no problem’.  AND old (‘Captain’) One John... being ‘stiff collared’ and ‘in town’ (in Boston) ALWAYS ...gentlemaned HIMSELF ‘a reader’ so would ‘always’ ‘the book store’... and “I’m IN A HURRY” “NO PROBLEM CAPTAIN SAVAGE SIR I’LL PUT A (big) BOX TOGETHER FOR YOU IT’LL BE ON THE TRAIN”.

            “Thank you William.  And here’s something for the wife:  Let her get herself...” (an Easter bonnet).  (Or what ever)  (and oh was THAT a pinched nickel).

            That “BOX” of ‘the latest published’ ‘hot off the shelf’ “WENT NORTH” on the train and... then by wagon... to the Savage Mansion’s “LIBRARY ROOM”.  One John never read ONE book.  Ever.  The women unpacked the box, put the books on the shelves and “READ THEM” meaning in actual fact:  “POKED AT THEM” by their choice... until the NEXT BOX... repeated that process.  Eventually the “LIBRARY” was “FULL”.  THAT’S WHY we (Hiram and I)... keep finding “BOXES FULL OF OLD BOOKS” in ... like... “THE BARN”.

            Aunt Winnie “bought books too.” said Helen after even she got “sick of” “all these old books”... that “no one ever read and is ever going to read.  Ever”.  Too.

            GET THE PICTURE?

            Or better:  “GOOD QUESTION”.

            Old One John could... probably... barely read.  The ...womens... “read” the

            SPICEY

            READ.

            RIGHT?

            “YEP THEM SOME READERS IN ... the Savage mansion’s front parlor” “of evening”.

            EVEN today most people with most books, or some books or... the “THEIR” books... do not read them.  NO:  THEY DO NOT READ THEM.  THEY... ‘have them’.  Actually “READ” them is ...as rare as an actually RARE book.

            After forty to fifty years of ‘viewing’ ‘home libraries’ I... need but a FLICK (as opposed to a RAKE) of my eyes from a ‘safe distance’ (across the room) to ‘appraise’ a ‘home library’.  A FLICK:  “I can tell by the spine ends” AT A SAFE DISTANCE... ‘if I’m going to have to... go there’ and actually ‘look’.  NOT TOUCH... just ‘look’.

            A nasty hardball truth to one?  No sugar on your medicine spoon?  I am a dealer.  I am a rare book dealer.  I am a rare book scout.  I know ‘safe distance’

            COLD.

            I know the Savage Mansion’s library room

            COLD.

            “It’s dry”.

            “Good question:  You can KEEP the OLD BOOKS”.

            Same for the... old papers... about, like... NOTHING; hay in the barn, pocket watch at the ‘fix it’.  A boat at a dock.  A horse in the barn.  A train to Boston... and back.  A church.  Many schools.  More many ‘receipts’ “PAID”

            IN FULL and

            SAVED

            FOREVER.

            “YOU CAN TELL WHAT THEY WERE DOING FROM READING THEM”:

            They were doing NOTHING.

            The letters record that doing NOTHING in insipid perfect pen craft ink over and over again for decades including ‘today’s weather’ too... neatly tied “TO SAVE” in little stupid bundles.  Emily Dickerson did the exact same thing and ‘hid’ the bundles in the bottom draw but... BUT:  SHE WROTE ABOUT HOW insipid and insufferable “THAT” and those people... “WAS” (IS: it is still being done... ‘oh my email’ SAVE FILE ...titled “Delete folder are you sure?”

            Delete it.

            Please.

            ONE of the old desks is LOCKED and “I cannot find the KEY”.  It’s “FULL OF”.  I cannot wait... to ‘get in there’ and READ the OLD LETTERS... each night

            One

            Before

            I go to bed.

            Forever

            And ever:

            “WE SHOULD WRITE (RIGHT?) A BOOK!”

            “Two members of the Savage family

            DROWNED in their own PUKE” is the opening line

            Of the book “WE SHOULD; RIGHT”

            “Right?”

            “GOOD QUESTION.”

            And “...so like...” the cast characters Mr. (Dump) and Crap Pile are, to no surprise... STILL ‘sniffing around’ THIS (the Savage Estate Mansion’s “LIBRARY” “ROOM”).  I can’t sleep at night for they are ‘so good’ at...

            GOOD QUESTION.

            But I bet you can FIGURE that out TOO.  WHY DON’T YOU LET... both of them ...on separate appointments... come view YOUR LIBRARY ROOM.  WHO...will drown in their own puke THEN.  THERE... IN THERE... with YOUR ‘old books and papers”.

            YOUR old letters that

            You wrote and

            DIDN’T BURN.

            BONFIRE?

            “Good question” on that.

            IF ...your gonna ...talk... (expostulate) about... home libraries, books, rare books, ‘manuscripts’, ‘archives’, ‘old letters’, ‘old documents’... “PLEASE”:

            “Yes, yes, yes, yes... and yes, yes and yes” one COULD drown in one’s own puke “in there”; the home library.

            Best keep up the ...coy façade of fabricated myth... of old New England DRY (and modestly desperate... but never “hang myself in the barn” desperate; only “suffer” evenings in the ...front parlor... of an ‘old sea captain’s mansion... on the coast of old New England... desperate).

            “But what WILL HAPPEN to THE LIBRARY?”

            “Good Question”.

(“I JUST LOVE THE OLD PHOTOGRAPHS”).

Coy - Part Thirty-Five - "This is a Glory"

Coy

Part Thirty-Five

"This is a Glory"

The raw fabrication

Of a coy façade;

Its raw setting

Has been related?

The impudent thief

Disguised as a janitor

Takes out the trash

After paying in cash?

Folded finger money

Decides the fall back destiny

Of old New England

Fading away?

            I did (and do) not have any problem with this estate distribution at all for I... was a chosen one too and the others were that too so it was only an US that was in full agreement that THIS WAY was... well...:

            “FINE”.

            Turned up side down and pitched... the Savage Estate escapes becoming... right side up.  One cannot visit it.  One cannot... get in there ‘and see’.  Your flashlight in the cellar next to mine?  No.

            IN THIS END... there IS NO ONE THERE... ‘from away’.  There is no congestion at the estate.  WE pry up the gravestones and pitch them into the sea?  Or have I saved it all in a massive mound in an old barn that only I have the key to and only Hiram and I ‘go to’ ‘knowing it’s there’?  Or is Hiram excluded ‘from that’... “too”?  And:

The procedure... of the distribution of the contents of the ‘Captain’ Savage estate mansion... continues.  And will continue... until a death... makes us part.

            Do I think Hiram will out live Helen?  If anyone can it will be he.

Do I think Helen will be found dead in her pool side chair... beside her... condominium’s swimming pool... in Florida... ‘after lunch’... some day... in a February ...with her cigarette still burning in its ashtray?  Her highball glass still sweaty?

            “She’s a tough old bird.” religiously opinionates Hiram.  And he should know for he... is one himself.  I could, I suppose, ‘make case’ that ‘this’ (the procedure) is keeping BOTH of them ‘alive’.  That means... ‘heaven forbid we finish’ “cleaning out”?  And that query I may rebut for I... now having evermore... NEVER MORE... creeped around the mansion... ‘know’ that it is... ‘adequately stocked for its duration’.  One day... some lawyer... from some bank will ...lock me out...

            I suppose.

            “Are not you the ONE we tried to HIRE?” twenty years ago... I will be asked.

            “Who me?”.  Do not worry.  By then they all will have been replaced by subordinates and those from that ‘before’ ‘cannot remember’.  One actually has to be good at this; picking antiques from old New England estates, to ‘remember’ ‘twenty years ago ‘that-that... is-in-there’... “still”.

            “Still”... that’s a word that pickers use.  Owners do not.  Collectors do not.  Antiques dealers do not.  I ....I ‘ask’ “DO THEY STILL...”  “HAVE”

            “I’m SURPRISED you REMEMBER THAT.”

            I am not... so... “DO YOU... STILL... HAVE”... or did you pry it up and pitch it ...into the sea

            Where upon I

            Will scramble down the shore bank

            OF YOUR ESTATE

            And

            GET IT FOR FREE.

            Turned up side down, pitched... but ‘still there’... more often these days... it’s free.

            No one cares.

            All the old china in the dining room.

            All the old fruit jars in the cellar.

            All the ‘old buggies’ in the carriage shed.

            The old pitchforks

            The old pots and pans in the kitchen.

            The old painting in the hallway.

            The ...complete assemblage:  The material oblivion of six generations ‘living there’ including their very own gravestones in the ‘family cemetery’.  The cast ceramic garden urns abandon-lee decorating the... abandoned Victorian garden whose ‘old fence’ is ‘fallen down’ and a someone took its... gate away.

            When I was coming out of the well house

            With Hiram

            One late October afternoon

            In a breeze and below rolling clouds

            The geese were flying south

            ‘For the winter’

            Above us.

            We stopped, together

            And watched them

            Fly away.

            The old, age tone darkened and dirty wooden box he and I had filled with the scattered... mostly sheet iron tin... but ‘having a few glasses in there too’ well water ‘dipper cups’ AND the old tin... and gray galvanized enamel... foursome of actual water dippers (ladles)... and... leaving only ONE old bucket behind... we

            Had finished ‘cleaning out’ ‘that building’.

            I could tell from the manner of his handling one tin cup that Hiram... ‘used that one’ himself

            For years.

            I still have that one... for sale... at a little higher price ...so it ‘stays around’ because... no one cares.

            The ‘Grandfather’ clock in the front hall... was (is) a cheap one; “Scottish or Welsh”.  ‘It is one’... that old One John bought on the dock.  It never worked (“worked well”).  No one cared because no one ever ‘went’ in the ‘front hall’.  By that date (1850’s) tall clocks (‘grandfather’ clocks) were fading as timepieces to become the design form ‘requisite decoration’ of the front halls of old New England (and beyond) homes... simply ‘standing there doing nothing’.  Even cheap ones.  Helen has never mentioned ‘selling it’ or even spoke of ‘what it is’ beyond its symbolic poise.  I have and never will... ‘ask’.

            The sundial... also a timepiece... in the garden was... a Victorian era Romanesque knock off that ‘didn’t work’ too.  IT... was cast off of its white marble Victorian base when that base ‘was tipped over’.  WE found it lying there pitched from the base.  Upright that base was headless until I set the cast iron sun powered time telling mechanism upon it... again.  I’d already ‘bought it’ by specific cash treaty that included ‘all the old (garden) fixtures ‘in there’ (inside the fallen down fenced... in... Victorian garden).

            “I’ll get my dolly from the truck.” I said to Hiram BEFORE we walked from the front door of the mansion back out to the garden.  The front door is where, as usual, we negotiated a ‘specific cash treaty’.  WE ‘rolled’ the sundial’s base onto the dolly’s shelf.  I ...hauled it... ‘across the yard’ to the truck while Hiram followed carrying the ‘sun dial’.  WE ‘lifted’ “IT” into the truck.  We did the same for the garden urns.  I even used the dolly to ...haul the garden’s gate... “away”.  Too.

            “PRETTY OLD that one IS.” pronounced Hiram.  He is getting much better at denoting objects “YOU (I) LIKE THAT ONE I can tell.”.

            We found no silver dollars in the garden.

            We always look for silver dollars.

            I... did... find... bags of

            Dollars

            In the garden

            That I had to ‘dolly away’

            That day.

            Then we ate our sandwiches.

            Then I left

            With that ‘load’.

            “Attic?” you say.  You old New England ...fool.

            “She doesn’t even know there IS an attic.  “GO THERE?” she thinks means “IN THE CAR?”.  And no one else in the family ever hauled anything ‘up there’ anyway.  “WHY BOTHER” and they just ‘left it there’ for the ...following generations that ‘came’... bringing their own “PUT IT IN”.  The attic?  No.  Their room.  The hallways.  And, of course, the “in there” of the meandering ‘rooms’ ‘in there’ (of the mansion).

“Attic you say?”... is about it... for that

For it is filled with bats.

“REALLY?  UP THERE?  In the

ATTIC

You say.”

            Snakes in the cellar

Squirrels in

EVERWHERE

Mice.

“I hate mice”.

Rotting wood.

Flaking paint.

Torn screens in screen doors

“OH THIS IS A GLORY” being ‘in here’ I.

The End