Nancy Nancy Drew, Where Are You?
Spent the afternoon cleaning my room. I figured that a hot sweaty summer is the perfect day to be cleaning out one's room because I was already sweating BEFORE I bothered lifting a finger to do any work, so might as well run with that sweatsweatsweat theme.
There's a perverse joy that comes from cleaning out my room, because it also used to be my sister's. As such, it's full of accumulated odds and ends that don't belong to me. There's a sense of discovery that comes with the endeavor. I'm sure some of you know the feeling. When you're cleaning out your room, you discover things you almost forgot you owned. Ipis Dei remarked, "Personal archeaology! It's a whole new unlinked livejournal interest all its own!".
But instead of remembering new things about myself, I remembered new things about my sister. I didn't bother trying to go out of my way to uncover her dark adolescent secrets, but I'd occasionally glance a scribble as I threw out useless notepaper and catch some idle doodles as I set aside her college papers.
But my most favoritest part was uncovering new pop cultural detritus. For example, I had completely forgotten that my sister has a big library of Nancy Drew books. All of them are mucho early printings that date back to 1963. True, it's a whole thirty years after her first appearance in the 30's but still.
Yet, forty years after being printed, they're in much better condition than some of my old nineties comics. I'm ashamed to admit I thought of what kind of value they have to a collector on Ebay. The book I've depicted here is "The Bungalow Mystery." Hee hee hee.
When it comes to super-retro literature for girls, I think this beats the pants out of all you people with Babysitters' Club and Sweet Valley High.