Coasters and monkey skeletons

The coaster shortage at our house came about because I decided to clean, paint and rearrange the basement.

It took me two weeks. I didn’t ask Bob to help because it was my project - I own up to that much - and it didn’t seem right to involve him in something that didn’t appeal to him nearly as much as watching the Yankees. I knew better than to compete with Aaron Judge.

Anyway, once the paint down there had dried, I moved the metal shelves into position alongside the walls. I put the Christmas stuff on their shelves; electrical cords and bulbs on theirs; toilet paper and canned goods needed for Armageddon in their own section; and so on.

You get the picture, and those of you with a touch of OCD are probably all tingly at the thought of such organizational skills.

Problem was, the shelves were all a bit wobbly. The basement floor isn’t entirely level, and it seemed that one or two legs of each shelf needed some extra length.

This is where the coasters came in. I went upstairs and rounded up all the coasters we owned, which was about eight. Then I shoved one under each shelf leg that needed a boost. It worked like a charm.

But as happy as I was about the unwobbly shelves, I found myself thinking about coasters. I really needed to buy new ones because I couldn’t go running to the basement and yank out the old ones whenever company came and we needed to appear upper class.

Juan Soto was at bat when I told Bob I was going to Home Goods for some coasters, so I doubt he noticed I’d left.

This is where the monkey skeletons came in. For those of you who have never gone to Home Goods, you should understand that the minute you walk through the door, you will remember that you need everything on display. You won’t necessarily find what you went for, but you will leave with a lot of items that you couldn’t possibly live without for another day.

On the day I went there for coasters, I left the store with four little wooden bowls for serving peanuts and three monkey skeletons.

No coasters, though. (In my own defense, I thought the little bowls were coasters but realized my mistake when I tried putting a wine glass into one and it toppled over.)

The Yankees were done playing by the time I returned, so I engaged Bob in a conversation about the coaster situation. He seemed baffled to learn that we ever had coasters in the first place. He also seemed reluctant to look at coasters online with me, and I had trouble getting him to express an opinion about what kind we should get.

I made some suggestions. Wood? Rubber? Stone? Woven fabric?

He just stared at me. He seemed to know something was required of him, so he generously told me he trusted my judgment and went out to mow the lawn.

I decided to buy six rubber ones to keep in the basement in case the shelves developed another wobble. I got five wooden ones that proved to be way too big and weren’t absorbant. And I bought ten woven ones that came in lovely patterns and absorbed the sweat off a glass beautifully.

Only problem was, our dog Ozzie liked them, too. He began to steal them. He buried one, put one in the toilet, and shredded another, leaving us with only seven. I feared they would all gradually disappear.

To be on the safe side, I ordered another ten. Amazon brought them this morning. Then, for some reason, another Amazon truck arrived this afternoon and delivered ten more.

So now I have 27 woven coasters, six rubber ones and five wooden ones. Plus the peanut bowls and the monkey skeletons.

I tried telling Bob about all this a couple hours ago. I told him I was putting the extra ones on the shelf with the Armageddon supplies in the basement. He just stared at me. Again. I could tell he wasn’t taking it all in.

“What if I suddenly dropped dead?” I said to him. “Don’t you think you should know where the extra coasters are?!”

That got a rise out of him.

“If you dropped dead I’d want a drink,” he said. “Of course you’re right. I’d need to go find a coaster first.”

Well then. I rest my case.