Last week my parents gave me a cedar blanket chest that had belonged to a woman who had lived with my grandmother when I was growing up. If you want to get really technical previous owner of the chest was my great great grandmother's niece, so I think she's like my cousin 30 million times removed, but that's a story for another day.
Deathy McDaredevil and her husband (Mr. McDaredevil) and my nephew M came over to help me maneuver it up my stairs and place it in my bedroom. And by help I mean the guys did all the heavy lifting and Deathy and I supervised.
|Oh please, don't tell me you wouldn't climb in there just to see if you fit.|
And then there's an added bonus that it is vaguely casket-like so when I kick it they can just squish me into it and plant me in the backyard to save on funeral costs. We're a frugal bunch. Don't look at me like that, it's not like I'm judging your funeral plans.
As we were walking back downstairs I was silently contemplating my good fortune in scoring this piece of furniture with its coffin-esque functionality, when my sister pointed out the decorative carranca mask that hangs on the wall opposite my front door. In a tone usually reserved for my misadventures with vehicles she asked...
"You have some nice art in your house, but this??"
|Like you wouldn't sneak up to your neighbors window holding this thing.|