Last week was my grandma's funeral and I want to thank all of you for your kind words of support. It's been a rough time and I thought that I'd feel better after she died because at least then she wouldn't be suffering anymore, but I don't feel better. I feel bad and then I feel bad for feeling bad because what's the point? She was old. She was sick. Everyone dies. But I still feel bad. And then I feel bad for feeling bad. See what I've got going here?
The family got together last week to clean out Grandma's house and get it ready for sale. It's a really nice house. Wanna move to Hibbing? I can set you up with a sweet deal. Just kidding. Nobody wants to move to Hibbing. Did you know that the entire town was moved in 1919? It was because iron ore was discovered underneath it. My grandparents owned and ran Erickson Lumber and it's still there and is still run by my uncle. My grandpa had an architect working there back in the day and he had their house designed and built by Erickson Lumber. There are lots of clever little built-in drawers and closets all over the place. Everything is recessed into the walls. Even the lights and kleenex holders. There is TONS of storage in that house. People kept saying what good "bones" the house has and that bothers me because, gross. Houses don't have bones. And if they did, I'd say that is not a good asset. Make the owners get rid of those disgusting bones! Yuck! Why do you want to buy the house of a serial killer anyway? Sick! Who's your realtor? (Sorry, I've been watching a lot of Dexter lately and body-disposal is one real of the down-sides of serial killing.)
My grandpa was a pretty savvy businessman and talented builder, and my grandma was organized and neat and practical which is why we were all so flabbergasted when we found this:
It's an ancient hammer with a claw broken off. It was hanging neatly in my grandpa's downstairs workshop. The man owned a hardware store, and he kept this hammer which I'm sure is WAY older than me. Weird.