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The other day I blogged about the miracle of finding my husband getting rid of things in the big barn.
I was happy!
I was thrilled!
Heck, I was downright orgasmic.
Until I walked upstairs.
.
.
A lot of the things I thought he’d gotten rid of…
.
.
Had just migrated upward instead. So with determination in my step I went back down to help him sort through things to throw away.
It did not go well.
Here are a few of the items he couldn’t bear to part with.
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No, you’re not seeing double. That’s a flippable measuring cup… though why on earth you’d need to flip one I don’t know.
.
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Blank dog tags.
A box of them.
Why? Unless he’s planning to outfit a woodchuck army…. I don’t see the point.
.
.
A rock.
And while I’m normally all about the rocks, I do prefer mine outside…. or slowly cooling my gin and tonic.
Finally there was this:
.
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He wouldn’t part with it, even though he didn’t know where he’d gotten it or what the hell it was.
So let me resurrect that old blog series I used to torture you with..
Name That Crap!
What is it?
( And yes, I did research so I know the answer. )
