Back when a first class stamp cost fifteen cents and Long Beach seemed a lot farther from Oysterville, my post box received a letter every week or so from my dear friend Gordon Schoewe.  He was the best letter-writer ever!  I just ran across this one which I can’t help but share:

5-14-80
Dere Cydknee,
    On account of your hysterics at my tragic story… I’ve decided to write it out for you so that you will better appreciate the sorrow of it…
First we bot lovely gnu wallpaper for the dinning room… which meant building a new wall between the dine room & kitchen. — to do that…
We must remove 8 ft oak cabinet from kit side of wall — must find place to put —
Decided to put into new (perhaps to be) Breakfast room… so
To put there must level ceiling — which when looked at was a desaster — so…
tore down old ceiling — to discover that ceiling supports were none existant — so…
New ceiling supports — Then ceiling… decided on cedar… used our supply… leaving a 2’x9′ empty space… so…
Had to search out sources for cedar… foud in Marysville — north of Seattle…
Brot home — installed — then built base cabinet out of old cabinets…
Dishes had to be removed from old cabs… boxes in every nitch — where is the cooking oil?
   Then cabinets removed… cut down — wall now doesn’t reach ceiling. Oh joy.
   Then– onward to install old oak cabinet (as related to old oaken bucket) so
Discovered that we could only lift it to within 2 inches of proper height — woe to be old & feeble
   so…

Roy Gustafson and Gordon Schoewe – “Roar and Gore” c. 1980

   We lift up one end of thousand pound cabinet so that Roar can hold… Then climb on sink & other cabinet & lift…
  Then —whamo–out goes old knee (a twist injury… couldn’t it at least be a ski accident?)  I fall from cabinet to floor… (carefully setting cabinet end on sink) onto already damaged knee… and scrape-ing (sp) various parts of ye olde bawdy on various objects… a three plus foot drop into oblivion… yelling for Roy to help — but he’s in hernia heaven – holding up 1000 lb cabinet… so that it will not crash to floor — thus smashing ye olde ex-dancing darling into fat pulp…
Sew — dancing darling — when shock wears not out, but down, drawls to phone… dialy dialy number of lovely neighbor and screams for help… they come running — muscles rippling and as I… brave but stupid and damaged person… crawled erect and help — actually lift — put ye old 1000 lb, not particularly attractive at this point, cabinet in place… then fall to floor in agony — pale as death… actually more tattle tale grey…
so… the only solution is… anyone for martinis…
after two… one barely notices the swelling — and that your pants don’t fit… at least around the knee… and golly… my sequin disco trousers are now a waste of pesos… and what can one do in the can-can line without the ability to kick… let alone high…
Does this stir the cockleburrs of your heart… and if not — why —
Signed, tragic sole!
(sound fishy???)  All is TRUE.