Tag Archives: hoarding

Pandemic humor.

Because it’s still here and we still to need to laugh.

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I don’t consider myself at all anti social, but Covid has certainly made me realize how much I enjoy my own company. I never disagree with myself, annoy myself or get in my own way. Ya gotta love that.

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Proof positive pandemics can make some things easier.

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I do feel sorry for the kids. They’re missing out on so many once in a lifetime experiences. But on the plus side, by the time they finally do go back to class? They’ll be old enough to buy beer.

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I shouldn’t laugh at this, I’m still only halfway through my stockpile.

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This one is a little old, but I missed it. 2020 won? That’s uncanny.

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Hey, at this point I say whatever works.

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If there’s an award for the world’s most patient wife…

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I should win it.

Hands down.

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Because I’ve been looking at this mess for…. count them…. 37 frickin’ days.

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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….

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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?

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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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She’s a clever little b*tch.

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Before the snow fell, our resident rodent pest from Hell. red squirrel was busy.

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Stealing seed from the birds and apples from the deer.

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Seeds were stuffed in every conceivable hole and our deck looked like a fruit salad exploded.

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But after the first snow storm?

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She was a happy camper.

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And remembered most of her stash spots.

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Im sure that fruit tasted good.

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She’s annoying.

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But clever.

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The good, the bad, and the rude.

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As you know (from reading this) I am not a fan of the photo Christmas card. But this year? There were a few that made even me smile…. and in the interest of fair play I’m posting them.

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Clever people who went the extra mile this season.

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Is it wrong I’m as jealous as Hell of that fort?

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I feel you momma.

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A wee bit dark, but I get it.

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This cracked me up. The photoless photo card.

A fitting tribute to 2020.

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A bit embarrassing, that.

But along with the funny ones… there were some I found to be in bad taste.

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I’m no prude, but toilet humor at Christmas might be a bridge too far.

And this last one?

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No. Just no…

To celebrate and encourage your young daughter to flip off your friends and family?

I don’t care how rotten 2020 was, that’s not my idea of festive.

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Pandemic humor

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Laughing.

You need to do it…. so it might as well be here.

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I knew I was totally blameless! Now if someone would just tell my waistline…

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If we haven’t, we should .

Like right now.

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Karen. Still causing trouble…

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Not yet mind you, but come January it’s entirely possible.

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I saw a woman buy 13 bottles of bleach last week.

They walk among us.

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Operation clean out has begun.

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The construction and finish work on the Barn Mahal was finally done, so it was time for a major clear out.

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Giant piece of paint covered glass from the kitchen porch he replaced 5 years ago… which he’ll never use again but must be saved?

Check.

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The large wagon wheel frames my girlfriend gave me that I wanted to use as barn decoration?

Check.

But make no mistake, clear out does not mean throw out.

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It means stuffing things in every possible nook and cranny he can find.

Over the cars in the garage? Yes.

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In the newly remodeled and previously almost empty baby barn?

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Of course.

In the tiny room on the side of the wood shed?

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Naturally.

In the wood shed itself?

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Why not.

Those frameless doors he picked up at the dump because they’re free and he could?

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In between the motorcycles and covered with a dirty towel is the perfect spot.

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And lastly, things migrated upstairs in the barn itself.

Because, you know…. there’s soooo much room up there.

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And people wonder why I drink.

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Who is this man and what have you done with my husband?

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It’s beginning to feel like Invasion of the Body Snatchers up at Casa River.

There’s a pod here somewhere…. I know it.

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It’s the only possible explanation for why you can currently see the floor… and walls!…. of our garage.

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The look alike alien husband removed the rattle trap archaic blower which was here when we moved in.

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He even *gasp* hung things up. Look, little shelves with neatly coiled tie down straps! Be still my heart.

And then? Excuse me while I reach for my smelling salts… he took his prized 400 lb antique potato planter out of the big barn.

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He loaded it on his truck.

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And gave it to our town’s historical society!

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(I think I may have passed out at this point.)

And just when I was sure my husband had been replaced by an otherworldly facsimile…

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I found him back in the garage knee deep in this.

Delicate apparatus?

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Well, not quite.

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Box full of rusty old tools that haven’t worked since Christ was a Corporal?

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There he is!

Welcome back honey. I missed you…

Treasure is in the eye of the beholder.

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If it’s rusty, weighs 600 lbs and doesn’t work? I guarantee you my husband will love it.

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Like this old cash register he brought home from the dump years ago. No, not the fancy, scroll worked, shiny brass kind from the the turn of the century… the ugly ass, flat black, base metal one they used at gas stations and feed stores in the 40’s and 50’s.

What’s that?

Your husband takes things to the dump? How nice for you.

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Mine brings home broken things other people don’t want.

Does he clean/fix/repurpose them for use… or even as decorative items? No.

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But when they need to be moved, the man painting our barn has to be enlisted to help.

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Heavy?

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Just a bit.

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But after much huffing and puffing it was plunked down on that other ton of fun in the big barn.

Though why the floor didn’t give out from underneath them I’m sure I don’t know.

The rodent revolution can’t be far behind.

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I didn’t pray for this miracle, but I’ll take it.

Day two of the husband cleaning out the garage.

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Things were going well until he hit this corner…

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And found mouse nesting material covering whatever the hell was stored there.

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When he pulled off the filthy blanket?

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Yes. Those are corn cobs.

WTH?

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Sweeping off the pounds of nasty mess revealed this:

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Old, rusty and doesn’t work?

A keeper.

But the sweeping also revealed this:

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A tiny, squeaking baby mouse.

And when there’s a tiny, squeaking baby mouse?

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There’s a crazed mother mouse searching for it close behind.

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We spent the next half hour reuniting the little bastards, but the damage was done.

Their home had been destroyed…. like the chipmunks in the baby barn and the red squirrels in the house eaves.

Three rodent families displaced in the course of a summer.

I fear for our safety this winter.

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The miracle continues…

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Out of nowhere the husband decided to clean the garage.

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And there was lots to sort through and clean believe me.

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Did I crochet that?

I once superglued the straps of my bathing suit together, so… no.

Like hundreds of other items that show up in our out buildings, I have no clue how it came to be there. But the point is, the husband was willing to get rid of some things and that had to be celebrated.

Applauded.

And crowed about on a blog.

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Okay, so he wasn’t willing to part with everything. This was old, rusted and didn’t work.

In other words, a keeper!

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Halfway though the day he stumbled on that motorcycle dolly he just had to have. You know the one… I bought it for his birthday 10 years ago, almost broke my back getting it into the house and wrapped? The one he not only didn’t use, but never even opened?

Yeah, that one.

Problem was it had been stuck in the back of the garage for all that time and a mouse family had moved in. So when he picked it up?

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The bottom of the box gave way.

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And pounds of mouse shavings, clippings and poo fell out.

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But one side of the building revealed it did indeed have a (seriously cracked) floor and the truck was filling up for a dump run.

Cue the brass band.

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Naturally if I put anything in there, it had to be gone over with a fine tooth comb. Which by the way, I found three of.

None with a full set of teeth.

Good times.

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