OK.
I’ve got to vent.
Tonight, I sit here pondering about “why do men hoard stuff??” I mean, not to be a sexist here, but I understand why women hold on to things- we appreciate sentimental reminders, we love getting gifts and we adore beautiful things. Most of us love to shop, which means we have more stuff.
In my case, I just have nicer stuff than my husband. 5 months before we got married, my husband and I bought our first home and I moved in first with my stuff. My sweet husband called a few of his buddies and they moved all my stuff into our new home. No questions asked and there were no eyebrows raised about my stuff taking too much space.
A few weeks before our wedding date, my husband talked about scheduling a U-Haul to move his stuff from his apartment. “What for?” I blurted, I honestly didn’t think he had that much stuff to actually fill an U-Haul. I didn’t want to hurt his feeling, but looking around at his bachelor pad full of hand me downs and mismatched stuff, it didn’t seem like there was ANYTHING worth keeping, and worthy of our new home.
When my husband moved in, he neatly stacked his boxes in the garage. Weeks went by. Months went by. The boxes remained exactly where he first put them. I didn’t give much thought and didn’t mind the boxes being in the garage- as long as it didn’t actually make it into my new home, I was happy.
The boxes stayed untouched, unopened, and unsorted for 3 years- till we moved to North Carolina. I decided if those boxes in the garage still remained untouched, we needed to re-evaluate their worth before we paid people to drive them across the country.
While my husband was at work, I finally opened one of his boxes. The box was full of his old college applications, old financial aid forms, taxes filed since 1988. I was appalled. I opened another box and it was full of classroom notes from high school & college. Another box full of not only old photos, but its original negatives (yes, definitely pre-digital), another box of outdoor camping gears including rock climbing gear, high school wrestling shoes from freshman year, a sculpture project he did in Jr. High School, and on and on.
I tried to reason, plead, bribe, and threaten my husband to get rid of those boxes but he remained unmoved on this issue. We moved 7 times in our 7 years of marriage. Every time we moved, the dumb boxes full of “trash” moved with us and we fought over them. When my husband got an internship for 3 months in Miami, he actually drove down with all those boxes promising to sort them, and they actually came back from Miami, untouched and un opened.
When we were preparing for the move down to San Diego this summer, I decided this was my chance to finally get rid of those boxes. Conveniently, my husband had to move to San Diego before us and I followed the following. I would walk by those boxes and throw them a menacing smile. I’ve waited so long to dump those boxes, and this was the chance I’ve been waiting for. I knew my husband would NEVER even notice.
The night before leaving to San Diego, I fell asleep before my husband as he was finishing packing his car. I barely managed to peel out of my bed to say our good bye at 5 AM. He left behind a whole house full of responsibilities and the task of now packing for our family. But I didn’t care; I was about to have a PURGE fest.
A few hours after my husband’s departure, I walked into the garage, almost giddy with excitement. I’ve waited 7 years for this moment and I couldn’t waste another second. When we didn’t have any kids, I tolerated those boxes because space was not an issue. But now, keeping his stuff meant less space for the kids’ stuff, and hardly any space for me. I would commit my crime now, and apologize later. After all, isn’t that what marriage is all about??
I walked into the garage. I walked over to the corner where the boxes have been stacked, untouched for the past two years since we moved into our house. Then I froze.
The boxes, the trash of old stuff, were ALL GONE!! I mean they completely disappeared into the thin air. Not one box was left behind. My heart started pounding, and I can feel the blood rushing to my head. I ran out to the garbage can to see if they were there. Nope. I looked around the garage to see if they have been moved. Nope. I even searched my curbside to see if they were left out for the garbage people. Nope. They were nowhere to be found.
Of course, my husband brilliantly managed to stay up all night and packed those stupid boxes into his tiny car for the 400 miles+ ride. Somehow, he was totally onto my scheme and managed to save his boxes of trash. Now, those boxes sit in our paid storage in San Diego, mocking at me, ready to move with me wherever I go next.
“We live in a constant fear” said a friend’s husband. “We never know what will go missing when we come back from work”.
Apparently men ARE sentimental. Who knew? I guess marriage is a threesome arrangement between you, your spouse, and the pesky packrat who just won’t go away.
The packRAT? Really Attached to Trash I say!!
