People. My day, well the afternoon into evening, has revolved around junk.

Junk junk junk and more junk.

Maman is finally close to settling Gpa’s estate {hooray!} and the closing is tomorrow, thank The Jesus. Which meant omfg, must get every single last detail cleared and hauled away.

Enter the lovely 1.800.Got Junk truck. With the best junk removal dudes ever. Who didn’t even bat an eye at my crazy when I saw one of them hauling this beauty up the basement stairs.

It was lust at first sight. There were noises and arm movements and incomplete sentences and my, don’t don’t DON’T put that in the truck! I waaaaaaaaaaaaaaant it!

TC, feeling the typical need to involve himself in matters that have nothing to do with him, had to shout out across the yard, DON’T LISTEN TO HER, LOAD THAT THING UP!

It was a rather confusing 20 seconds of me saying, don’t listen to him and TC saying, don’t listen to her.

Of course I was going to win this one.

Now for the back story on Mr. Lovely Bones. He was my great grandparents’ player piano. Which became my grandmother’s. Maman has fond memories of Christmas Carols on Christmas Eve, probably with all drunk on highballs and champagne relatives. Everyone merrily gathered around the piano.

Unfortunately, there was no getting him out without having to break him up in bits and pieces. When I saw this leg section come out, I was hit with The Vision.

Of how fabulous he was going to look hanging on the wall. TC thought I was utterly insane, but he came around quick on The Vision.

I’m really big on having every piece we hang on our walls have meaning. I’m a firm believer that our homes are a reflection of Who We Are — they tell our stories for us. I never buy anything that doesn’t have a personal connection associated with it.

Now. I just have to find the perfect spot for him. I have a couple ideas, like the stairway, or maybe the living room … I shall channel the power of the ancestors and see if there are any suggestions.