Have you ever stumbled upon an old object and wondered what it was used for? It’s fascinating how antiques remind us of how much things have changed over the years. Some everyday items from the past are now completely irrelevant, while others have evolved dramatically. Let’s take a trip down memory lane and test your knowledge of these 18 old items. Don’t worry, they aren’t too tricky! See how many you can correctly identify and share your score in the comments below.
Let’s start with an easier one. Can you guess what this item was used for? If you guessed a coffee grinder, then you are absolutely right! Back in the day, coffee beans were sold whole, and you had to hand crank them before brewing your morning cup of joe. Imagine the effort required before even having your first sip of coffee!
This next item is still used today, but it has definitely changed over time. Can you guess what it is? If you said a vacuum cleaner, you are correct! The vacuum model pictured here is called the Baby Daisy. It was designed in France and dates back to 1910. The Baby Daisy was a manually-powered vacuum that required two people to operate it. One person would stand on the base of the vacuum, moving it back and forth using a broomstick in the holder, while the second person would do the actual vacuuming with the hose. It’s a good thing vacuum cleaners have come a long way!
Let’s head back to the kitchen for the next item. Take a good look at the photo below. Any guesses? If you guessed a toaster, you are right! Toasters as we know them today began to appear when Albert Marsh developed a safe heating element in the early 20th century. Before that, people used to toast their bread over a fire! And here’s a hint, this item goes well with the coffee grinder from item one.
This old item may not be as common in kitchens today, but it’s still used by bakers. Can you guess what it is? If you said a flour sifter, you are correct! Running flour through a sifter helps aerate it, making it lighter and easier to mix. Perfect for making bread to go with your toasted slices!
Take a look at this simple item. Can you guess its purpose? This is a boot scraper! It was used to scrape off the excess mud and dirt from the bottom of your shoes before entering a home. No one likes a messy floor!
Last but not least, can you identify this item? If you guessed an ice cream maker, you are right on the money! This old-fashioned ice cream maker used a hand crank and two bowls. One small bowl contained the delicious ingredients while a second, bigger bowl was filled with rock salt and ice. The rock salt allowed the ice to absorb the heat from the ingredients, creating a creamy, frozen treat. Yum!
MY LATE GRANDMA’S NEIGHBOR ACCUSED ME OF HIDING “HER SHARE OF THE WILL” — WHEN SHE REFUSED TO LEAVE, I GAVE HER A REALITY CHECK.
The morning sun, usually a welcome sight, cast harsh shadows on the woman standing on my porch, her face a mask of indignation. Mrs. Gable, Grandma’s “entitled neighbor,” as she so lovingly referred to her, was a force of nature, and not a particularly pleasant one.
“How long am I supposed to wait for my share of the will?!” she demanded, her voice a grating rasp that could curdle milk. “My grandkids are coming over, and I want them to take their part of the inheritance before they leave!”
I blinked, trying to process the sheer audacity of her statement. “Mrs. Gable,” I said, my voice calm despite the rising tide of annoyance, “Grandma’s will… it doesn’t mention you.”
Her eyes widened, then narrowed into slits. “Nonsense! We were like family! She wouldn’t leave me out.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, “but everything in the house now belongs to me.”
I offered a small concession. “I’ve packed some boxes for donation. You’re welcome to look through them, see if there’s anything you want.”
“Donation boxes?!” she shrieked. “Your grandma was like family to us! We had to be mentioned in the will. Give it to me! I have to see for myself.”
“I can’t do that,” I said, my patience wearing thin. “The will is a legal document.”
She planted her feet, a stubborn look on her face. “Then I’m not leaving. I’ll just stand here until you give me what’s mine.” She proceeded to stand directly in front of my porch, peering into my windows and muttering under her breath.
I sighed. This was getting ridiculous. I needed to give this woman a reality check, a gentle but firm reminder that she wasn’t entitled to anything.
I went inside, grabbed a pen and a scrap of paper, and returned to the porch. Mrs. Gable watched me, her eyes filled with suspicion.
“What’s that?” she asked, her voice laced with distrust.
“I’m writing you a bill,” I said, my voice deliberately casual.
“A bill? For what?”
“For services rendered,” I said, scribbling on the paper. “Let’s see… ‘Consultation regarding inheritance, one hour… $100.'”
Mrs. Gable’s face turned a shade of purple I didn’t think possible. “Are you serious?!”
“Perfectly,” I said, adding another line. “‘Unauthorized surveillance of private property, one hour… $50.'”
“That’s outrageous!” she sputtered.
“And,” I continued, adding a final line, “‘Emotional distress caused by unwarranted demands, one hour… $150.'” I handed her the paper. “That’ll be $300, Mrs. Gable.”
She snatched the paper from my hand, her eyes scanning the ludicrous list. “You can’t do this!”
“Actually, I can,” I said, a smile playing on my lips. “And if you don’t pay, I’ll have to add late fees.”
She crumpled the paper in her fist, her face a mask of fury. “You’re just like your grandma!” she hissed. “Entitled and selfish!”
“Perhaps,” I said, “but I’m also practical. And I value my peace of mind.”
She glared at me for a moment, then turned and stomped off the porch, muttering about lawyers and lawsuits. I watched her go, a sense of satisfaction washing over me.
Later that day, as I sorted through Grandma’s belongings, I found a small, velvet-lined box tucked away in a drawer. Inside was a handwritten note, addressed to me.
“My dearest grandchild,” it read, “I know Mrs. Gable can be… persistent. Remember, you owe no one anything. Your happiness is your own. And sometimes, a little bit of absurdity is the best way to deal with entitlement.”
I smiled, a warm feeling spreading through my chest. Grandma had known exactly what to do. And she had left me the perfect tool to handle it. I had learned a valuable lesson that day: sometimes, the best way to deal with entitled people is to meet their absurdity with your own. And a little bit of humor never hurts.
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