A Regina Steemer carpet cleaner, patent-pending, both purchased and exclusively used in the year 1984.
A pipe on the ceiling that has been serving as a makeshift closet rod for fourteen of my 31-year-old sister's costumes from her childhood dance recitals.
A dusty “duck-wearing-yellow-galoshes” cookie jar that has never contained cookies.
A commercial-sized janitorial brown trash barrel, mangled, yet filled with 17 metal baseball bats left over from that one time my dad coached Little League in 1994.
A pool table, fully covered pocket-to-pocket with various items including: 22 tarnished picture frames, an obsolete iPod shuffle with no charger, an unused Batman Forever promotional glass from McDonalds, a chipped figurine of a random goblin holding a red gemstone, and a two dollar bill.
My crib, from 1986 (read: I'm 35 years old).
Various bottles of half-used beauty products including: three expired sunscreens, a tube of L.A. Looks hair gel that was once lime green and is now clear, a miniature Sunflowers by Elizabeth Arden perfume (read: my Nana's old signature fragrance), an Aqua Net hairspray that won't spray anymore, and the Bath & Body Works “Cucumber Melon” body splash that I removed from my cheerleading bag at the end of my freshman year of high school.
Two Boston brand faux-wood pencil sharpeners: one electric, one battery-operated, both used solely from the years 2000 to 2004.
A six-foot-long clear plastic tote, cracked, yet filled to the brim with various gift-wrap needs: rolls of wrapping paper, spools of ribbon, packages of tissue paper, sheets of “to/from” tags, and bags of bows.
Five of my brother's (read: identical) participation trophies from elementary school basketball.
A royal blue velour “hand chair”: you know… the kind that when you sit down, your butt rests in the “palm” and your back leans against the “fingers.”
Four rusted cans of WD-40 that have been in the same spot on the same shelf since I can remember, that most likely being 1992 (read: at the latest) (read: and that's generous).
An enormous, faded, hand-embroidered tiger tapestry that hasn't been on the wall since there was shag carpet in the family room.
Five rolls of beige and “wood patterned” wallpaper, left over from when it was originally put up in 1982, for “in case we ever need more.”
Several piles of complete dinnerware sets: one with a peach seashell design, one with a nutcracker and holly Christmas design, one with a tan and taupe striped design, one with a tropical flower design, and one with an autumn leaf design, because “the kids might want these for their homes one day.”
A frayed luggage set bought in the '70s, untouched since the '80s, each suitcase marred with at least three holes or stains since the '90s.
An unplugged hand-me-down treadmill that I don't remember ever being used, draped from top to bottom with winter coats that I don't remember ever being worn.