Poor Joyce

My friend Gail went to an estate sale recently and hit a goldmine. (I was unable to attend as I'd had a surgical procedure 3 days earlier involving a humorless gynecologist, a hot anesthesiologist and an ovary the size of a tennis ball.) Anyway, it was one of those sales that is described in the local paper as a "72 year accumulation". Gail found an assortment of fabulous objects, but the real treasure was a pile of old scrapbooks that had once belonged to a gal named Joyce. She had lovingly placed every greeting card she had ever received in the books, they were dated chronologically from 1959. Our Joyce had even noted the weight of each of the scrapbooks on the inside cover. I'm thinking that Joyce had WAY too much time on her hands. So, the scrapbook from the 1964 has this written message: "To my family, Please handle carefully. I hope it gets handed down from one generation to the next generation with whoever is the keeper of it will care for it, and treasure it as much as I have." Fast forward a few decades and the scrapbooks are piled up on the living room floor while dozens of strangers paw through her stuff. The price: $10.00 each. Priceless!