So, let me tell you about what happened the other day. It was a real situation, let me tell you. My Freddie bobblehead, the one from the concert years ago, decided he’d had enough of sitting pretty on the shelf.
He took a nosedive.
And not just anywhere, oh no. He managed to wedge himself right behind the old, heavy bookcase in the living room. You know the one – solid oak, weighs a ton, and I’m pretty sure it hasn’t been moved since the last ice age. My back twinged just thinking about trying to shift it.
So there Freddie was, stuck in the dusty abyss. My first thought? “Aw, come on!” I really didn’t want to lose that one. It’s got memories, you know?
My brilliant first attempts.
Naturally, I tried the obvious stuff. Stuck my arm down as far as it would go. Nope. Just managed to get a shoulder cramp and a handful of dust bunnies. Then I grabbed a ruler, thought I could gently nudge him out. All that did was push him a bit further in. Brilliant.
I was starting to get a bit frustrated. It’s just a bobblehead, right? But it’s MY bobblehead, and I wasn’t about to let the dust gremlins claim him.
Then, the lightbulb moment.
I remembered I had one of those long-reach grabber tools, the kind you use for picking up litter. Went to the garage, dug it out. But the claws were too big, too clumsy. I was worried I’d snap Freddie’s head off, and then what’s the point, right? A headless Freddie is just sad.
So, I had to get a bit creative. This is where the “practice” part comes in, I guess. I rummaged through the kitchen drawers. Found a pair of those extra-long cooking chopsticks. And then, in the craft box, a roll of that good double-sided sticky tape.
You see where this is going?
I carefully wrapped the sticky tape around the ends of the chopsticks, creating a sort of gentle, sticky pincer. It looked ridiculous, honestly. My wife gave me that look. But hey, if it’s stupid and it works, it ain’t stupid.
The actual rescue mission.
Alright, so I knelt down, armed with my high-tech chopstick contraption. It was a bit fiddly. Took a few tries to even reach him properly in the gloom back there. My knees were killing me on that hard floor.
I managed to gently touch his base with the sticky ends. Held my breath. Slowly, ever so slowly, I started to lift. He wobbled. My heart did a little jump. I half-expected his springy neck to just give up.
But it held!
I carefully maneuvered him up, past cobwebs I’d rather not think about, and out into the light. Success! Freddie was rescued, not a scratch on him, just a bit dusty. I gave him a good wipe-down.
You know, it’s funny the things we get attached to. Some folks would say, “It’s just a thing, throw it out, buy a new one.” But this little Freddie, he’s seen a few things with me. Been on my desk through thick and thin. Rescuing him felt like a small victory against the chaos that just wants to swallow your stuff.
Plus, I really didn’t want to move that bookshelf. My back thanked me later. So, yeah, Chipper saved Freddie. And all it took was some chopsticks and a bit of stubbornness. Sometimes, that’s all you need.
