Well, the last time I was here there were three... now there are two. During the last few years (no one's sure when) one of the sheds caved in.
I only discovered this when I went to show my munchkins our old fort and happened past the shed. To my dismay no one had gone in to retrieve any of the salvagable's.
Grumbling a little about how I have to do everything I trudged in and started picking through things. My little sister watched on in horror, promising that I'd contract the Huntavirus for my troubles. It wasn't until I triumphantly (and with maybe an excess of possessive laughter) pulled an old typewriter out of the mess.
"I get that!" she shouted from the doorway.
"In your dreams." I laughed. "Whose the one in here? Hmm?"
So, the next day (yesterday) my sister and I suited up and went in--there's nothing like a little treasure hunting to convince the undecided. The place is a huge mess and by the time we finally gave up we were both covered in dust and mouse poop. There is so much still in there that needs to be pulled out, but as the two youngest in the family we decided that the four boxes of our oldest brother's stuff that we hauled out was enough for us.
We did exact a price however. I mean, that's what little sister's do, isn't it? Two typewriters, one box completely full of buttons, two rackets, two golf clubs and a large, sturdy, metal tool box. Okay, we might have taken more... but as little sister's we know how to keep our mouths shut about the things we 'acquire.'
And the icing on top?
No one can argue our price, because if we hadn't gone in there none of the stuff would have ever again seen the light of day. Not those elementary school pictures from 30 years ago. Not the scrapbook my mom made as a child. Not even the small tin can full of Brazilian Reals.
Too bad for them they didn't get to it first or they might have gotten the box of buttons.