Tag Archives: hoarding

Never let your husband bag the groceries.

 

We had to run to the grocery store for a prescription last night and I figured while we were there I’d pick up a few things.

They were still out of paper products, water and flour….

 

 

 

But all I wanted was fresh fruit and veggies anyway.

When we got to the check out line…. with the reusable bags no Mainer is ever without… we were told a new policy of self bagging had been implemented, so the husband happily jumped right in.

Yes, he put the bananas on top of the bread… and the apples on top of the lettuce but it wasn’t until we got home that the real fun began.

Did I buy oil?

No, but a large bottle came home with us.

Did I buy pistachios?

No, but they came home with us as well.

And while it was bad enough the husband rounded up and bagged someone else’s groceries? He also packed this in our bag….

 

 

Hand sanitizer.

But not another shopper’s sanitizer.

No….

 

 

He lifted one of the store use bottles they keep at each register.

Do not let your husband bag groceries.

Really…

Don’t.

I hate to admit it.

I really, really hate to admit it.

But every once in a while, the husband’s giant barn of crap treasure will yield something useful.

Case in point?

These…

That I found buried in a pile of scrap wood yesterday.

Two masks.

And not just any masks…. but the highly sought after virus blocking N 95 masks.

Treasure… in the barn!

Real treasure in these currently difficult times.

Who knew?

A bridge too far.

 

It’s bad enough my husband stops at every yard sale he sees.

 

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It’s bad enough he comes home from the dump with more than he went with.

It’s bad enough he built a giant barn and filled it with useless stuff before it was completed.

 

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But what happened the other day?

Is a bridge too far.

We woke up, had a lovely breakfast, went outside and saw something on the barn porch. I didn’t think it was a good something…

But the husband dragged it inside before it could run away.

 

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Yeah.

 

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Someone left an old sewing machine.

 

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Complete with original boxes of accessories….

 

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And owners manual… with free mouse turd. Ack!

We have no idea who committed this heinous crime…. but when I find out?

They will feel my wrath.

 

 

The husband needs no help finding old worthless junk!

So please… I beg you.

Bypass our porch and take your crap to the dump next time!

(Though not the one in our town, or any neighboring towns where he’s apt to shop.)

 

 

 

 

Oh, good grief.

 

Try as I might to avoid it, sometimes I have to go upstairs in our barn.

This usually forces me to emit a heavy sigh over the husband’s new acquisitions.

You know,  the ones he snuck in there without me noticing.

 

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While I was pleasantly surprised to see he’d done a little organizing (read – shoved everything to the sides) and the floor was visible this time….

 

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And also delighted to see a small section of crap had been put on a shelf.

A shelf!

 

 

(What? You don’t collect dusty old water stained cardboard boxes half full of rusty rivets and tacks…

Why ever not?)

A groan did escape me when I saw more bed frames….

 

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And old rusty pesticide sprayers…

 

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As well as whatever the hell this is in front of the vintage cabbage slicers.

 

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I’m thinking I should make him use that in the baby barn to level out the dirt floor.

You know, as penance for bringing the damn thing home in the first place.

 

 

I  wish I knew.

And if you’re thinking to yourself, geesh River, that didn’t look so bad…. let me point your eye downstairs where it looks like this:

 

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And this:

 

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And this:

 

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Enough said.

 

 

The baby nightmare continues…

 

Baby barns.

Totally not worth the trouble.

 

 

 

When last we left our intrepid deconstructor, he had finished the back side of the main building and was moving around to the side.

 

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Please note that his loyal wife and help mate was not thrilled to see a large pile of dirt growing ever larger on her lawn.

 

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Problem #1 this past weekend?  The husband had so much  junk, crap, useless rusted nonsense   treasure stored in that section, he had no room to work.

Of course, he assured me it was all wonderful stuff.

 

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I assured him it was not.

 

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What? Why? How much….

 

 

I didn’t even want to know.

 

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Yes…. that’s a filthy old door with a mail slot that weighs roughly 5,000 pounds.

No… I have no idea why he has it.

 

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But if you need 2 rusted iron frames for your wooden wagon wheels?  He’s your man.

Although on second thought, he never parts with anything… ever. So I guess you’re out of luck.

You might have noticed this jewel in the previous photo…

 

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I think it’s an ancient torture device from the early 14th century.

I know it damn near broke my back dragging it across the lawn to the big barn where it will now gather more cobwebs.

It’s days like these that I have to keep telling myself…

 

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I really do.

Because otherwise? I’d kill him…

And I don’t think they’d let me blog from prison.

 

 

 

 

 

I knew it was going to be a banner day.

 

When I woke up to this…

 

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A big old rainbow in our backyard.. almost a double.

 

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And if that wasn’t beautiful enough?

Later in the day, this happened….

 

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My husband…. who never throws anything out?

Loaded up his truck and went to the dump!

 

 

He cleaned out the giant stack of empty boxes and some of the crap that’s been clogging our garage for years.

We went from this…

 

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To this…

 

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Walls.

I can see the walls!

And he even got rid of that old sink he brought home from God knows where.

 

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Of course now I can see the vintage cash register and faded bed frame that I had no idea he’d snuck in as well.

But hey…

Even miracles only go so far.

 

Things I don’t like today.

 

A switch from my regular happy to be alive posts.

 

 

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I don’t like….

Being bitten on the hand by a horse fly while mowing the lawn and having it swell up to 5 times it’s normal size.

 

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Hot, stiff and throbbing.

And not in a good way.

 

 

I don’t like….

Being bitten on the ankle by a horse fly the next day and having it swell up to epic proportions as well.

WTH?

 

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Did one of you clowns stick a Bite Me sign on my back…

 

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I don’t like….

Being late to lunch with friends because I lost the husband to yet another junk filled yard sale he just couldn’t drive by.

 

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He came back with a bag… and I didn’t even want to know what was in it.

 

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I don’t like….

The fact that the husband owns a chain saw.

 

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This birch tree had one bad section… one.

So bye bye entire tree.

 

 

Nothing is safe. Except the two dead flowering plum trees I’ve been after him to cut for years. Those?

He leaves alone.

I don’t like….

 

 

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Going out to check on the baby catbird nest and finding momma’s feathers on the ground…

 

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And an empty nest knocked loose from the bush.

Poor little things.

I don’t like….

Things that come in threes. First our  too new to die damn it  refrigerator, then my car’s air conditioner, and now the husband’s truck’s air conditioner. There’s a conspiracy afoot to make me sweat.

 

 

I really, really don’t like that!