I know every corner of my side of town and being completely uninspired, I had grown tired of the curbside freebies (AKA free furniture) on the south side of town where I live. I could close my eyes and tell you where just about every broken down sofa and jacked up Sauder desk was in the 33813 zip code. I grabbed me a Big Gulp and headed the rig north to the “country”. You see, I was raised on the north side where people drank sweet tea and had a chicken or six pecking about the yard. Growing up, I thought nothing of going outside to run to Publix and having to knock a chicken or two off of the Ford. I mean, seriously, didn’t everybody leave for the grocery with a few foul flinging off the Ford after throwing it into second gear? That’s normal, right? Any who, I trucked out to the country and started cruising through a neighborhood that had only a few trucks up on blocks and either a busted coke machine on the front porch or a toilet fashioned into a mailbox stand/planter. Sure enough, it wasn’t long before I spotted potential loot: a 70′s headboard in really good shape! The best part was that it was roadside, propped neatly against the telephone pole waiting for a ride back to civilization. With the lonely stretch of road flanking my junk salvation I could take my time getting the piece into my car. Sturdy and straight, the design was what I like to call “Redneck Gothic” which means it was a staple in country homes for twenty years with it’s medium brown tone, heavy shellacked surface, and chunky profile. Sure enough, like citifolk have a scent, the homeowner comes flying up behind me on his four-wheeler named “Bootleg Monkey”. (It was airbrushed on the side, probably at the tractor- pull). Cleetus said, “Hey ma’am, you takin’ that?” I tried to act all nonchalant and said, “It alright with you?” he replied, “Don’t matter to me none, you aint got a fancy one at home?” I told him that my intension was to paint it, distress it and write on it with sleep quotations. He grinned (country people grin, not smile). and said, “Shoot fire, girl! That thang is already distressed! See how the corners are all worn down? Don’t you nevermind that, those handcuffs didn’t hurt Claudine OR her SISTER and they won’t hurt you neither!”
For a moment I paused to consider what he had just said to me. I looked at the ground and hesitated before I burst into action like my ass was on fire!
I don’t remember the speed or strength it took to get the headboard into the car and speed off like a church lady with the runs but I sure left Cleetus in a dust cloud. After I had put a few miles behind me I giggled, proud of my acquisition and rescue and thankful that I had not been born a Claudine or a Claudine’s sister. Here is a pic of the finished project which I have named “Claudine’s Hitching Post”