Bric-a-Brac

Today I learned a fun new word, or is it a phrase? Regardless, it is Victorian in origin. How? I'm just going to tell you a little story. Take every opportunity to practice writing or subject one's [few] readers to silly muses.

It was a long day working the swing shift. I left the office just after sunset. I am not a fan of driving home in the dark. However, driving after the sun sets comes with the demands of working swings. I often wonder what my life would be like confined between two lines of longitude; I wonder if I would have such issues as driving in the dark. An alternative is having a chauffeur, but I need help keeping a staff. Don't we all?

I pulled into the small private drive that afforded access and safety to me and my three other neighbors. Easing my Subaru just past my driveway, I safely reversed into my parking space in front of the garage door. Posturing my auto to leave a parking spot without using the reverse gear has been my habit for years. During the kid's Girls Scout days, I learned this was safer for pedestrians and children overall.

As I shut the engine down and turned off my headlights, I immediately realized that, once again, I had failed to leave my outdoor safety porch light on. My rural village is pitch black after the sunsets, and we don't have that many street lights in our area. With a basket of my day's leftover lunch items hanging heavy from my left elbow and keys in my left hand, I fidgeted through my key ring to find the house door key.

I quickly became familiar despite only being friends with this key for about 10 days. Fortunately, the key's shape is odd enough that I can identify it by feeling. Finding the right key led me to the next hurdle, slipping it into its chamber of tumblers without the benefit of light. Being confident after years of unlocking doors and breaking down barriers, I had little worries that I would be inside my house in moments.

A flash of accomplishment charged my soul as I entered the door, triggering the entryway safety light's motion switch. At my feet, greeting me like the excited dog I do not own, sat a medium size envelope begging for a charitable donation or a pat on the head. The accepted items included clean clothes, handbags, shoes, belts, accessories, unwanted gifts, and Bric-a-Brac. Bric-a-Brac, my mind immediately questioned. What the heck, Bric-a-Brac?

I now know, thanks to a quick query using my internet search engine. Interesting.