Lessons from the Antique Trunk

I don't even know where it came from.  I think it somehow wandered over to our basement from my parents' basement.  Probably it belonged to some grandparent or great-aunt,  but I don't know who.  Today I had my husband haul a truly dirty old trunk out of our basement into the sunlight of the backyard.  The layer of dust and dirt was such that until a first washing, I wasn't even sure what it was made of.  


So, now I know.  It is wooden, covered in canvas.  The canvas is actually in excellent condition.  It is all in tact and in place, except for a little bit that is on the fold over to the inside of the trunk.  The wooden strips on the outside look like a little sanding and refinishing will make them good as new.  But, the leather straps are either missing or in a state of total disintegration. The metal fittings are rusted and corroded and in need of serious work.


A search on the internet yielded the suggestion that the inside would be covered in paper, and that this could be replaced with wallpaper.  I thought that since I had no intention of storing anything in it, I would skip any interior work.  After all, I am only planning to use it as an end table or possibly a TV stand.  Then I looked inside.  Oh, yuk.  I'm not sure what was growing in there, but it was gross. 


After the external cursory cleaning, I decided to tackle the inside.  I dampened the paper and began scraping.   Two hours later, I was totally exhausted.  The day is warm.  Working inside a trunk requires some bodily contortions, and I began to wonder just how long it is safe for a 65 year old to stand on her head.  I tipped the trunk on its end so that I could sit down to work.  I sat in a puddle created by the earlier washing.  Now, in addition to being soaked with perspiration, I felt like I had wet my pants.  When that cramp in my hip started, I knew it was time to quit.


Here's where one of the personality quirks I sometimes dislike about myself kicks in.  When I start a project, I am pretty much obsessed.  I push things through to completion sometimes, when it is really quite unreasonable to do so. I have hung the last strip of wallpaper in a room at a point where I was shaking so with exhaustion, that I was worried about falling off the ladder.  Not smart.  In any event, I ignored the leg cramp.  A cold can of Dr. Pepper rejuvenated me enough to adjust my position and push on.  The thing is, that I wanted to get enough of the paper off, so that I could let the inside dry out.  Then, the next time I work on it, I won't have to dampen it again, I can just use sandpaper.


So, by the time, I was satisfied, I was shaking and more or less staggered into the house.  Now I have showered and sit in my nice cool living room with a cold drink.


What have I learned?
That removing exterior dirt gives one some perspective.
But, that things may be worse on the inside than they appear on the outside.
That I can still exert considerable effort in a ridiculous position without having a stroke.
That I really do like Dr. Pepper.
That I will probably go to my grave without learning to pace myself.