It’s 8:17 am, and I’m hiding in my office. The construction team is out in the hall taping a giant zipper to the outside of the door while I write. For the next 3 months our house will be a disaster area. First on the agenda is a demolition of the master bath. It’s old and I won’t miss it, but oh the racket. The cat’s in a crate. The dog is locked in Mr. Husbands office, barking her head off. Hopefully they will get used to it.
The result will be 2 beautiful new bathrooms. Our house was built in the 60’s and the baths are the original design complete with avocado green tile in 1 and Truck Stop beige tile in the other. Yuck!
Our bed is now in the middle of the dining room. We will live in there for the next 3 months or until we move to separate hotels, depending on how well husband and I cope with the upheaval. We have managed fairly well so far until last night. Hub-man worked himself into a snit because “he packed way more boxes than me” . Ex-cuuuuuuse me! Is this the 800 plus videos that drive me so crazy that I actually blog about it to the entire universe, or the 5 people who read this? Or maybe the 10,00 books stacked all over everywhere that are dusty, yellow and you haven’t touched in 20 years?
Listen here, Bubba. Did you actually think I was obligated to HELP YOU PACK UP THIS S@@T????? You may as well send me to the liquor store to buy booze for an alcoholic. In what reality is this? It sure isn’t the one I live in. To quote one of Mr. Husband’s favorite phases, “NOT gonna happen.” OK, by this time I was yelling. All decorum was gone and my last shred of loving wifely patience flew out the window on the dark wings of rage. The very nerve! I literally had to bite my tongue to stop from going into a full-fledged tirade. It’s still a little sore this morning.
That “never go to the bed angry” thing sounds good on paper. But sometimes when 2 angry emotional people are on their last nerve, the best thing to do is just go to bed and get some much-needed sleep. Tomorrow is another day. Everything is peachy this morning. A bright new day, good hot coffee, life it good. By tonight we may be beating each other over the head with construction materials, but we’ll just deal with it then.
To collect or not collect that is the question. Whether it is nobler in the mind…Ah, get a grip.
There is a line between collecting and hoarding. Fortunately it has a large gray area. All the suggestions from the original post DVD Hoarders Anonymous are extremely thought-provoking. I am incredible grateful for all the feedback. Really never dreamed that so many people have the same issue with their beloved other. Also, had something to say about it, and how strong the opinions were. Continue reading →
My husband collects DVDs. There are so many of them in this house that I’m considering starting a bonfire. At last count, there are almost 800 of the nasty things crammed in our walk in closet. Years ago husband had a carpenter come in here and make custom shelves for them. This is before I came on the scene. My mistake. Should have checked out his closets before I married him. Maybe I will write a letter to that Hoarder show on TV and see if he is eligible for a visit from a pop-psychologist.
The damned things are like rats. I am convinced that they multiply during the night. If there is an apocalypse we’re covered. We won’t have electricity, but maybe I can get him to buy one of those bikes that you pedal to power the TV, just in case. The DVDs used to be in some kind of order. I ambushed him with a label maker and threatened acts of violence if something wasn’t done about the confusion. That solution lasted about 3 months, until the amount of DVDs again grew out of the space provided. Now there is a stack of 15 new ones collecting dust on the bookcase by the TV.
He has a plan in the works to have a carpenter come in and build MORE shelves in his office. To add to the outrage, Mr. Husband announced yesterday that he intends to replace all his favorites with Blu-rays. Yippee, can’t friggin wait.
I am a minimalist. Building more shelves to store more junk in this already over stuffed house is about as appealing as cleaning out a collection of neglected cat litter boxes. Maybe worse. Netflix is where it’s at, in my opinion. So much less wasteful. Don’t have to storage problems. A little elbow room and more space for my shoes. Now, if I could only convince the hub-man.
Better yet, next boy’s night out I’m going to convert the entire bedroom into a closet. Trouble is he would probably like that and rush out the door to buy more stuff.
Interesting concept on this site: In a World Where…Everyone Has a Library
Photo Credit: Nick Stone.
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