Angela at The Lurchers isn’t really nosy, but as she puts it, she’s just interested in people. So as host of this week’s Fun Monday, she wants to know what’s on, in, or under our bedside tables? She says: “So open those drawers and bare your soul to us! Is there anything special there that has a story or a memory that you can tell us about? Books that you keep there to delve into from time to time? Trinkets that you don’t know where else to put? Let’s see.”

OK, here’s my night stand…

Lovely isn’t it? And that lamp! Pure elegance, AND there’s another one just like it on Downtown Dad’s side! It has taken us years to acquire a ‘grown up’ bedroom set. There are my reading materials – The Name of The Wind, Bear’s recommendation, kind of a wizard-ish saga, pretty good; Get In The Game, some group sales rah rah crap, I’m only pretending to read it; Better Homes and Gardens magazine. What’s that? Boring you say… well, maybe on the outside… lets have a look in the drawer…
Well, that’s a little more interesting… Breathe Right Strips, throat spray, chapstick, my foot sander and Kerasal cream, a journal and a few pens, some Burts Bees hand cream and a coaster, so my Sleepy Time Tea, or other nightcap doesn’t leave rings on my aforementioned lovely night stand. I guess all you can tell from this is that I’m trying to keep from snoring and I have calluses on my feet. Still boring? OK, open up the bottom cabinet…

There it is… that’s what you were looking for! A rolled up heating pad! Yes, you’ve found me out! My dirty little secret is that I have back pain! What? You want to know what that other thing is… well, OK, but it’s really nothing… just an old cardboard shoebox that holds my journals from 1972 through 1975. I literally wrote something every day of my life in 1973 and 74 going on and on about the three things in my life I spent the most time thinking about – boys, getting high, and hating my dad. Then, in 1975 my dad found my journals, took them, read them and hid them from me. I took them back, bound them up in this shoe box, taped it up, wrote some vaguely ominous threats to anyone who might try to open it and then wrapped it in a blanket and hid it in my cedar chest. I’ve opened the box since then. Sometimes I pick a year and read a couple of months worth of entries… it’s like going back in time to visit the 15 year old me.