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I should win it.
Hands down.
.
.
Because I’ve been looking at this mess for…. count them…. 37 frickin’ days.
.
.
This giant load of useless crap was belched from my husband’s closet in the den on December 8th when he needed to climb up in the attic.
I didn’t bitch, it was a necessity.
And since he had the next 30 days off work because he didn’t take any vacation in 2020, I figured he would deal with it at his leisure.
I was wrong. So very wrong.
I didn’t bitch a week later when it was still there.
But two weeks later? I was bitching silently in my head.
Three weeks later? I was bitching in my sleep.
Four weeks later? I was bitching opening while plotting his slow, but quite painful demise.
It’s only today, 37 frickin’ days later, the day before he goes back to work….
.
.
That he decided to deal with it. Of course it’s not a matter of simply putting things back in the closet. No. That would be too simple. Instead, each and every item must be fully examined and then brought to me for the desired but never realized “Gee, that’s swell. I wish you had 6 more just like it!” response.
Then he leaves the item in front of me with hopes that I’ll look it up and find it’s worth thousands of dollars.
FYI? The Moosehead beer mirror my husband knew was a vintage bar collectible?
.
.
Turned out to be a carnival prize worth $10.
As I type he’s knee deep in a stack of tattered Look magazines from the 60’s.
This clean up may take a while.
Another 37 days is not out of the realm of possibility.
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*Update – 5 hours later? The room is still littered with crap and there’s a ladder in the hallway.
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Good times.
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