Ask me about shelving. Do I sell shelving? No. Do I know anyone who does? No. Is there any money to be made by me in shelving? No.
I do a lot of shelving, a lot of putting things on shelves, looking at my shelves, and wondering what I should be doing with my shelves.
When I wake up I see my shelves. Before I go to bed, there they are. Loaded and overloaded. Stacks of things pointing every direction.
On my shelves there are lots of things that could use a good dusting. There's a lot of things that could use a good tossing out.
I have some of the trinkets of the first scary hunchbacked man I ever knew. I have three objects. One on the wall, two on my shelf.
This man ran a small business that my family bought out. I'm sentimental about him, although he's not well known.
I've checked eBay for anything relating to his business. It's not impossible that something could show up there. But it's SO not likely.
Anyway, this guy -- whose first name was Otis -- Otis' few remaining objects are on my shelf. Weird, huh?
On my wall is a calendar that belonged to Otis and advertises his business. It has the complete year of 1938. I keep it set at January 1938.
One other thing, I have pictures of people I don't know, including a cool 50 year old woman in a gold lame suit who I call "Aunt Goldie."
It's all on my shelf. Shelves are so useful! What do your shelves say about you? I know what they say about ME. Slump out...........