I could just give everything to Goodwill. That would be the easy way out. But I want to leave all to my grand kids. My kids don't talk to me anymore, so screw them.
Some of what I've collected might be termed quirky or inappropriate. You decide.
A collection of Taiwanese hand puppets to ward off evil.
A hand made balsa wood Japanese nose flute.
A book of smutty haiku poems.
Spoons from drought ridden countries.
Clay sculptures of almost extinct flying South American insects.
A documentary tracing how Staten island garbage collectors changed the industry.
Dozens of crumpled napkins with my story ideas.
Women's used bowling shoes, all sizes.
A Maid Marion inflatable doll.
A hand held mirror once owned by Rosie Perez.
A tape of the Flying Wallendas rehearsing.
All my old bed pans.
My porcelain doll collection depicting the Kardashians.
Let the grand kids figure out who gets what. I'd divide up my brain, but most of the frontal lobe was destroyed by the electroshock treatments.
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