Random rays of Sunshine

As I’m packing, I’ve been finding the most unbelievably random shit.

Sunshine’s random shit.

I do a lot of bitching about the sheer volume of Sunshine’s shit, but really? Some of the discoveries I’ve made while packing our stuffs and things for the move, well, they just take the fucking cake.

Yesterday, I had to sort through an overstuffed paper bag of receipts pulled out of his truck. If somebody could please figure out why Sunshine saves every single scrap of paper that passes through his fingers, I’d be grateful. Seriously, the man saves receipts for Camel Snus, cigars, deer corn, and gas station food. None of these things are tax deductions for him, and yet I had  to deal with receipts for three dollars and change for a fucking can of snus.

While cleaning out his outdoor kitchen storage areas, I figured out why I can never find any cleaning supplies inside my home. The man had multiples of bottles of a variety of cleaning products, along with more than a few cleaning rags that had been out there so long they looked and smelled like half-rotted clothes on a corpse that was buried in 1843.

I have come across outdoor-superstore catalogs from two hunting seasons ago. I found a mail order catalog from Duluth Trading Company. Sunshine has never bought anything from Duluth Trading; hell, even if he wanted to, he wouldn’t need the mail order catalog–they have a fucking website.

Yesterday, he finally released his 7 wild boar skulls that have been sitting on my patio for over two years. He traded them to a neighbor who wanted the boar teeth, for a stainless steel three basin commercial kitchen sink that the neighbor had traded a set of concrete steps for. That’s almost as weird as the times Sunshine traded wild boar testicles for sample bottles of his very expensive blood pressure medications.

This morning’s discovery? Battery acid. Two containers of battery acid. If I recall correctly, they are the leftovers from an experiment in tanning animal hides. If I recall correctly, that experiment didn’t turn out so well, and Sunshine decided that the way he’d been taught as a child was far superior to the battery acid method.

I’m about to go tackle the tool hoarde in our “basement” storage compartments.

Wish me luck.


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