Monday, December 11, 2006

Holy Crap!

Holy crap!


Holy CRAP.

Our stuff came in two days ago. The rest of it. And wow, all I can say is holy crap.

But here's the funny part: even though I know it's crap I can't seem to part with it. Those size 3 pants that I used to fit into in high school and probably never ever will again? Yup, I've gotta safe those. And a pile of another old clothes that I'll probably never wear? I can't throw those away either because suppose I get an urge to put on my Rolling Stones t-shirt?

I have problems, I know, but I'm not like an unhealthy pack rat that you see on Dr. Phil will boxes everywhere in the house.

No, thanks to our garage, all my boxes are sitting out there.

I did tell Tom we'd have a garage sale during the summer. Then I'll go through the boxes and decide what I can sell. Because Tom is all, "Amber let's just dump these out and give them to the Salvation Army," and I'm all, "But my STUFF, Tom, my STUFF!" Then of course I feel guilty, because there could be a kid walking around naked and I have all these clothes in my garage just sitting there and I mutter to myself that I'm a selfish selfish girl and surely I can part with old clothes...but then the other part jumps in and she's all, "But they're MINE!"

Hello. My name is Amber and I suffer from TMC. (Too much crap.)

I also need to go through Tommy's old clothes. We have boxes and boxes of those too. In fact when the movers were bringing in the boxes I heard one mutter, "MORE clothes? Jesus.."

He sounded like my husband, really. Tom says the same thing whenever I buy more clothes whether it be for myself or Tommy. He'll stare at the bag and groan and say, "MORE clothes?" and then I'll leap into my whole tirade of how they were on sale ("75% off Tom, you can't beat that!") and he'll give a sigh and roll his eyes.

The movers were also shocked on how many toys Tommy had. There were boxes and boxes of those too.

"You're a lucky kid," one told Tommy and Tommy just nodded and asked about the vacuum.


He has a room full of toys and he keeps asking me, "Where did the vacuum go?"

That's one of his quirks. The kid is obsessed with vacuums, which makes teachers want to quickly label him as autistic because it's not a normal thing to be obsessed over. But what do they know? Maybe he'll be a vacuum salesman...


We have the living room cleared out for the most part. The computer is up and running and our entertainment center is ready. The kitchen is unpacked but the laundry room is currently a death trap because there are boxes in there too.

Oh and the dining room is okay, save for a few boxes that are filled with, you guessed it, more crap.

Upstairs, hah.

Looks like a tornado has gone through it.

And I feel useless because I can't lift boxes, which drives me insane because I'm a lifter. Even if the box is heavy I'll deal with it. But I can't right now because I don't want Natalie to come spitting out from between my legs. So I have to ask Tom to do everything and I know he's tired and all and I'm frustrated because I just want to grab some boxes and ORGANIZE because I feel like I'm losing my mind.

Tomorrow our Internet is being hooked up.

(Still bumming from someone else, thanks to whoever you are.)

Then I can get some pictures uploaded so you can see our home and Tom's beloved truck.

Right now I need to go unpack.

Will I ever be finished unpacking??

And how will I cope with Natalie coming and buying too many GIRL clothes?

Where will all HER clothes go?


Oh and yesterday Tom and I celebrated our five year anniversary. I nearly forgot. I was in the middle of (you guessed it) unpacking and Tom went, "Come here," and patted his knee. I was irritated because HELLO, did he not see I was busy?? Still I paused and plopped on his knee and he kissed my lips and asked where I wanted to eat for lunch.

"Man, do you realize how much money we've been spending?? You know I get nervous when our account dips too low and you want to go out to EAT?" I shrieked.

"I figured we should celebrate..."

"Celebrate WHAT?" Then I remembered but pretended to play it off. "Oh yes our anniversary. Happy Anniversary!" I chirped.

"You forgot."

"I didn't."

"Look me in the eye and say you didn't forget."

"I didn't forget."

"See, you're smirking. You forgot!"

"I didn't forget!" (Though I did, briefly.)

We ended up going to Texas Roadhouse.

And Tom got some WW2 gun thing (fake of course) and I got Sims 2 Pets.


Though goodness knows when I'll get to play it.

Because, HOLY CRAP!


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