I want to talk to you for just a minute about stuff.
Stuff comes into our lives and into our houses, and unbeknownst to us, while we work, and play, and shower, and organize our comic books, it doesn't just leave.
No.
No, stuff sticks around, often secreting itself into the upper side shelves of closets, or next to the washer and dryer, or behind broken down boxes in the attic or, basically, in all the hidden corners that seem like they're not there UNTIL YOU'RE MOVING.
It's not even that it's the amount of stuff that's so monolithic (actually, it kind of is), but the KINDS of stuff I keep finding.
That's right, ladies and gentlemen, it's time to play a round of Why Are These Things In My House?
Here we go:
- my old peacoat from high school, which I have not worn since high school and can't imagine ever thinking it would be a good idea to bring to Ohio
- an entire folder of paperwork from a car I haven't driven in 6 years
- my father's copy of Moby Dick (Mr. Milkweed, did you "borrow" this?)
-a yearbook from a school I never attended in a state I never lived
-an enormous box of papers from a Library Science class on Automa...zzzz....sorry- Automation.
-a headless Teletubby
-a partially broken Mickey Mouse statue from a trip to NYC freshman year of college (again...WHY is this in OH?)
-a large, very heavy clay head that appears to be a third grader's interpretation of the myth of Medusa (this MUST be Mr. Milkweed's)
-several dogs toys, when we don't have a dog
-Rick Astley
- and not one but TWO empty Prell shampoo bottles
I could go on, but it gets a lot more mundane VERY quickly. Suffice it to say that we're racing against the clock and I'm finding your great aunt's missing box of hairnets right next to the packing tape.
Today is Monday...t-minus six days and counting...
3 comments:
So, your the one who's been hiding Rick!
My crawl space just got worse because my Mom brought me stuff that she was getting rid of to see if I wanted it -- and of course, there is now one more box of stuff that I just can't part with, but will not, under any circumstances, display in my house.
It was really impressive seeing our sublessor empty out his "room o' stuff" in our apartment a few days ago. He'd lived in the place for five years...and seeing all his furniture march past us was like watching a clown car unloading! But even having only lived there for one year, we are still going to be presenting the Salvation Army and used bookstores with a huge windfall next week.
Sigh. My least favorite part of the whole process is packing our boxes full of documents that I know I will NEVER, EVER look at again but just *might* prove to be of vital importance the moment I choose to grow balls and rid of them. Like, what am I going to do with student X's second rough draft of essay #5 from 2006? Or what about that magazine with that *one* recipe that I've by now completely forgotten about?
rick astley? seriously?
that's a little concerning.
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