The Weather Channel informs me tree pollen is very high in the area and this is no surprise. Both of us are sneezing with the usual puffy runny eyes and congested sinuses. The other-the-counter allergy pills do nothing. I am glad to get out of town this weekend for the ‘great inventory’ as is dubbed. Brother #2 and #3 announced they are coming in for the event. Brother #4 will probably join out of comradery. They aren’t attending to ascertain I don’t abscond with the family heirlooms, but to be part of the fun.

I can’t say I am entirely pleased by this. It will be difficult enough trying to keep myself and the parents focused on the task. Add a few Spos and suddenly it is a party of happy squirrels more likely than not to wander off, lose orbit, etc. On the positive, I suppose we could start talking about who gets what but this sounds a bit ghoulish. I don’t think the parents would mind in the least; so long as they don’t have to clear the crud out themselves whoever gets what is of no interest to them.

Which brings us to Peg-leg Pete. He is a sea captain with a wooden leg. He is made of plastic; he well under four feet. Once upon a time he stood in Father’s office; now he stands in the basement. Nobody seems to want the diamonds and jewels or the Stobart paintings or the opium pipe – but we all want Peg-leg Pete. It is Brothers #2 and #3 who really him (why I don’t know) which prompts Brothers #1 and #4 to covet him as well, just for mirth’s sake and perhaps being a bit invidious. It is all in jest of course. We think Brother #3 should take everything (minus Peg-leg) as he is nearby, has a large house, and has space for things. I will probably be obliged to take the baby grand piano on the grounds I am the only one who plays.

What I really want are mother’s cookbooks, with which my siblings will have no quarrel.

But I will gladly trade all the diamonds and jewels and cookbooks and the Steinway for Pegleg Pete. It should be an interesting weekend.