Fisher Pricey

Sooooooooooooooooooooo I seem to be moving from an Oprah-Winfrey-macaroni-and-cheese funk into a haunt-the-thrift-stores-both-online-and-off funk. I count this as progress because the latter funk requires actually leaving my apartment.

Except, of course, for when I decide to shop the thrift stores online. GW has an online auction site that I was paid to write about awhile back. Well last week I paid them around 26 bucks including shipping for a plastic dollhouse from 1969. Or thereabouts. Said dollhouse came with some accessories, including plastic beds with some of the original green foam glued-on mattress (this was disintegrating upon arrival, unfortunately), and a truly modern family, with three kids, one dog, two mommies...

... and their sperm donor. I put him in the closet beneath the staircase because that's where Walnut and I had decided we'd keep our men when we grew up and lived together in best-friends-without-the-sexy-kind-of-benefits bliss. It seemed the perfect solution at the time because it allowed for both the sort of emotional attachment you can only have with someone of the same gender and the physical attachment you can only have with someone of the opposite gender because you are into that and not the other, not of course that there is anything wrong with the other.

Any-HOO. When McMumsy was here I'd put some bids in on other 70s-era toys, only to be outbid at the last minute. I was relieved to be outbid. As was McMumsy, who did not think it was a good idea in the first place. And now that I have the plastic dollhouse, which I cleaned thoroughly upon arrival, I don't feel the need to buy anything else.

Except of course for Bug World, Milky the Marvelous Milking Cow, and Gobbles the Garbage-Eating Goat.