When the Husband and I got married and moved in together, my parents though that, finally, finally, they could get rid of the pile of my stuff that was living at their house.
And then, they helped us move into our 580 square foot condo on the 30th floor of a four year old building in North York. All dreams of turning my bedroom into a proper guest room disappeared. In fact, home they trundled half the stuff that had lived in my student house – a wobbly table, a large bookshelf, a microwave and stand, half a hundred books, various boxes of random knick knacks and, well, crap.
They were even so gracious as to store a bunch of the Husband’s things. A fish tank, a hockey bag, golf clubs, a bike.
When we bought our house, they got all excited thinking that finally, finally, they could give it all back and, once and for all, be done with all of their 24-year-old daughter’s stuff. And then, they came and helped paint our 600 square foot basement as we prepped the unit for tenants. There was a bit of a sigh, a shrug, and an acknowledgement that they were still stuck with a mountain of old odds and ends.
Everything has lived in their storage barn (Yes, barn. Not a working barn, mind you, though it was once.) since, two years of languishing in the dark. This week, I got a friendly email from my mom reminding me about the upcoming town wide yard sale and her plans to put it all on the chopping block if I didn’t come sort through it first.
(That’s not how the email was phrased, but I’m sure if I just left it all there long enough, that’s how it would end up.)
So, just to be nice, and to save my canister set from the pile, we’re headed home for an evening, a visit, a chatter. I’m not a huge fan of the drive, but I’m looking forward to seeing these people.
I’m also looking forward to seeing this dog:
Where have you left piles of stuff, momentoes of your past that should really just be yard saled?
Happy Friday! I hope your weekend is relaxing and re-energizing, filled with awesomeness.