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Okay, but first I need to get fresh gas in the tractor. Once I coerce the engine into starting I’ll be able to scrape a good straight landing strip for John’s remote control plane. Oh. Sorry. Not that kind of landing strip. Jargon often confuses me, as it is often meant to do. Jargon is also often meant to make a speaker or writer sound more intellectual or a product more effective or important than any other product in the history of human invention. There is no ill will involved in calling a place to unload when entering the house a landing strip, it just sounds cooler than dump zone. There are much more annoying and dangerous sorts of jargon, but I will, never-the-less, be calling it a place to unload or a place to hang my keys and sort mail.

I have to head out this morning to get baskets that I didn’t have yesterday to organize the items left in my bathroom cabinet. I’ve already gone through and tidied the kitchen, desk and bedroom (insert head pat here) so that I’ll be leaving and hopefully returning to a still clean home. This hinges on the behavior of the dastardly dachshund duo while I’m away. While I’m out I’ll see if I can find a suitable mail/key holder that will fit the few places I have to put such a thing. I’ll figure it out. I’ll take measurements of a couple of spots before I go, but it’s highly likely that whatever container I find for my unloading zone will end up on top of the washing machine.

I sort junk mail out before I even enter my house and drop it in the dumpster on my way through the garage. Thank all the gods I have a dumpster because I really don’t want to have a trash can near wherever my unloading zone ends up. I would have to stare at it all day. Under the sink, fine, tucked into the space between bed and nightstand, fine, hidden behind the toilet is fine. I’m also not apt to hang purses or coats or clothing on my walls. Coats go on coat racks behind the laundry door out of sight. Purses are hung on a rack behind a closet door in my bedroom, also out of sight. Such things are tools to me, not decor.

If I didn’t have closets, out of the way niches, or doors to hide non-decor items behind, I’d either build something or resort to plastic bins camouflaged with a cloth with decor items on top. I know, it’d be easier to hang my purses along a wall rather than to dig them out of a covered bin, but that’s me. I don’t want to stare at purses, or a hanging file for mail, or even keys for that matter.

So, off I go to brave the road construction that baffles and confuses the already baffled and confused snow birds in Surprise. Hot diggity dog.

Well, my foray into town was only marginally successful. I did find inexpensive containers to corral the cosmetics and facial cleansers. I’m not in love with them, but they’re doing their job.

I stopped at Walgreens and loaded up on voodoo and snake oil products to help me live in better harmony with my wrinkles. We’ll see. I’m sitting here with a freshly cleansed face, Retinol soaking into my crinkles, and moisturizer moisturizing.

I applied my entire daily allotment of imagination trying to find something I can live with as an organizer for keys and mail but was unsuccessful. Thus, here is the before and after picture of my place to drop stuff. Mail and keys are to be found there henceforth. If I can find or build something relatively attractive to sit there for sorting mail, great, if not, at least it’s in one spot. The crate at the edge of the frame holds our umbrellas and flashlights. Behind the door is where my barn coat hangs currently, but if/when I remove that door I’ll probably do something illogical like oh, I dunno, hang it in my closet where it actually belongs.

landingstrip

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