October 22, 2009

things that go missing

I did NOT know that when I got married I was going to turn into my father.

But, it happened. Well, not COMPLETELY because my sister called dibs on that a long time ago...but some things about my father sneaked on over into my genes as well, but before I talk about me...let me take you back to the one time we moved as a kid.*

My sister and I were given this giant garfield tent as a present one Christmas...and it was awesome. Basically the tent part was Garfield's body and then the most awesomest part of the tent was there was a giant blow up Garfield head-basically the size of a beanbag chair that attached to the front. The tent was sorta freaky in an 80s kinda way...but...
I loved that giant head. I would lounge on it reading my books, I'd lounge on it while playing "house"...pretty much it was the greatest place to lounge ever. And when you got tired of lounging, what better thing to toss up in the air?! That's right! a Garfield head!
And then, the fateful day came when we moved, and all the boxes had been unpacked and...the head "mysteriously" disappeared.

Now, I'm sure my parents thought-"Geez, its basically a glorified pool toy, the child will not miss it! And even if she does she won't remember it for long!"

HA! The jokes on you, parents! Here I am nearing 26 years old...and YES I am still thinking about that Garfield head. Which is pitiful, but whatever. This is not about me....its about my Papa. Because, Papa was totally the one to throw away the Garfield head, and while at the time I was pretty upset ( lets not lie, I'm still a little upset), I can now ABSOLUTELY identify with my father. Since I have now moved more times than I care to remember I have become a religious throw-awayer. In fact, when we moved from Washington to Kansas I made so many trips to the dumpster I had to start doing it late at night so people wouldn't see... but it wasn't enough! Only a few short months later when we were leaving Kansas, Brett would pass the trash bins on the way in the front door at night, and take things back OUT of the bins-in short, rescuing our few belongings from a fate of death.
Oh. Yes. He. Did.

Of course, he was smart enough to NOT tell me about this until much later, when he was safe and sound in Afghanistan.
Here is a reinactment of that conversation:

Brett: Did you keep my * fill in blank with Brett item* when you moved?

Abigail: Of COURSE I did!

Brett: Are you sure you didn't throw it away?!

Abigail: What do you TAKE ME FOR!?

Brett: Well, you DID throw it away!

Abigail: NO I DIDN'T! I resent the implication!

Brett: Well, then WHY did I have to dig it out of the garbage when we were in Kansas?!?

Abigail: WHAT?!? You went through the garbage?! Don't you trust me at all?


But, anyways, the point is, sadly, ...when it comes time for moving I cannot be trusted. I go into Moving Blackouts and EVERYTHING MUST GO. I start to despise things that I normally absolutely love. Like books. And shoes. ( don't worry, I haven't thrown either away just yet.) but I like to think that aside from the throwing away problem ( which I totally have control of, by the way) its mostly about me staying perfectly organized and neat and tidy...and above all I like to know where EVERY SINGLE THING WE OWN IS.
This is my control issues rearing their ugly head. Did you notice? I didn't until I wrote that sentence, but wow.
So, when Brett and I did our last two moves I began the process of organizing ( and, yes, throwing away) but ultimately I would always run out of time, or I would have to get Brett's help and therefore the job would never quite be complete...and so with each passing move I've gotten closer to ful-lon domination of our belongings...but never quite there.
( do you think I'm TOTALLY crazy, yet?!?)

So, this time around there was less for me to go through, and most of the things that I had to go through were boxes left over from the Washington Move #1, that had just never been unpacked. ( which is a SURE SIGN that their contents needed to be thrown away, right? Riiiiight?!?)...and so I came upon a box today that had the following helpful information written on the top:

"Bedside Table"

Now, obviously, this box did not contain a bedside table, since, it was the size of a shoe box...and it was ALSO obvious that this was not one of the boxes that *I* had packed because all of MY boxes where numbered. ( and then there was a corresponding numbered list on my computer that had all the items in said box listed....)

So, yeah, back to this story about the box labeled "bedside table". It could only be deduced that this was the contents of Brett's bedside table. So of course, it was ONLY logical that in lay the following items:

His very special pocket watch that his mother gave him.
His pipes.
The receipt from our honeymoon hotel bills ( whoa.)
The receipt from my wedding ring ( which I've been trying to find for a while).
A receipt for some groceries.
three dried up markers
two note pads.
A button/pin with a picture of a spaceship on it.
All the letters that I wrote him in Ranger School before we started dating ( HAZZAAAAH!!! I've been trying to find these for AGES!) that were neatly put into the zipper container for his Scuba lessons that he took in 2007.
A gum wrapper.
A half used up eye drop container.

So, to sum up. I never thought that *I* was going to be the one in my marriage to throw things away...and yet, SOMEONE has to throw that gum wrapper away!

*That's right, I only moved once! Of course, once I reached the age of 18 I started moving like crazy and since then I haven't been in one place for more than a year. SAD!


Anonymous said...

You've come along way to throw away a gum wrapper. Remember your collection? I'm sure your sister does!

Yo Mama

Anonymous said...

Abby, do you really have recipes for your wedding ring and honeymoon hotel bill?? Cause it would really be neat to duplicate the wedding ring in bowls and place in the oven for baking? Or, are they actually receipts for those things? ;-D

Be careful! There are still things that I realize Jim has thrown away that were mine, not HIS, to decide about. Yes, Abt control issues.
Aunt Donnave