An Archival Thanksgiving

This year, I am thankful for getting back to the simple things in life:

- Money, as in having, as in not having enough, but having barely enough to splurge all out a few months ago and purchase health insurance for the entire family for the first time ever, for at least the next six months.

- The lights are on, at least partially, some of the time, but not in the hallways, and that means we can still pay our power bill, barely, and we’re not archiving by candlelight, which everyone knows is a royal fire hazard, as seen in the Great Fire of Archive #47 back in 1927 when a sleepy archivist forgot to snuff his flame before dozing on his desk, destroying most of the records of the record-breaking Blass-Hoyton merger; the company going up in smoke in the crash of ’29 and both founders ending their lives ignobly selling apples on the corner, singing Disney songs.

- Paper. I can print things, things like recipes that will never actually get made because really, we’re too tired to cook, and who actually has five roasting pans anyway?

- A rolly office chair. It’s fun to scoot around in circles when no one is watching. The chair doesn’t corner very well, so maybe Santa can bring an upgrade. Also, that time I raced a cart down the corridor – good times.

- The last company holiday party I attended, I left with so much swag I nearly fell out of the car. They even splurged on the fancy battery-operated blinky-light trinkets that are not only reusable – the batteries can be replaced – they have actual off switches. (Clearly, this wasn’t an archive event – batteries are not archival material.)

- Tweed newsboy caps. Why not? Hats should make a comeback, so that we can then bring back manners. As in, take your hat off when you walk inside a building, unless you’re a woman, in which case your hat cost so much and looks so fabulous we may well just bury you in it, and wouldn’t you be the best-dressed person in a coffin at that funeral?

- Worst case scenario, we still have a few personal belongings that could be sold to replace income, such as one car, a television, and possibly my spouse’s cat.

- Dave Barry could be working here. No one would be safe then. -AL