soapboxdiner

It's not unusual . . .

Was cleaning out the Bro's garage of all my stuff that's lived in boxes for about a year and a half. Kitchen stuff, camping stuff, Christmas stuff. Like, all the worldly goods I have amassed throughout my life. All the "stuff" that I have to show for my 36 years on the planet, pared down to 7 boxes of "stuff".

Went through my "stuff" with D00d's assistance. He helped me dispose of my "white trash tupperware," as he called it. Margarine tubs and old spaghetti sauce jars.

Gone.

My perfect silverware that is strong by lies flat when stacked so it doesn't make a mess in the silverware tray?

Gone.

My cast iron pots and pans and baking sheets, casserole dishes and crock pot and roasting pans?

Well, some of 'em are OK, honey. We don't need them all, you know.

My blender and for god's sake even the mixer to make silly, stupid mashed potatoes.

Gone.

So 7 boxes became 3, which we loaded into the back of the D00d-mobile (which is, cleverly enough, dubbed "The Race Truck"), along with some camping gear.

And that's it.

Went up to the D00d ranch to unload. M00d said hello and watched as I brought in the 3 boxes of stuff that are the new sum total of all the worldly goods I have amassed in my 36 years on the planet, and she was pissed. "Well, we don't need THIS." and "Oh, well, we don't really have room for your favorite kettle. You should have called and told me so I could rearrange the kitchen to make room for your kettle."

And whatever brave face I had been trying to feel crumbled inside a little. Whatever excitement and hopefulness I wanted to live in that moment when my whole life's physical . . . whatever consisted of a sad little pathetic 3 boxes of "white trash tupperware" and some Pyrex . . .

I don't know. It's just sad and embarrassing that all I have to show for my time here is a couple of mixing bowls. And even those are tainted with memories of where they used to be.

.
.
.
.

But I really, really just wanted to lift my chin and let go of my humiliation and regrets and smile about a new future life that incorporated in 3 boxes of "stuff" to help it feel like home, like a contribution, like I was accepted and belonged and that I and my belongings were welcomed and valued.

But they weren't. And so there you go. There's the answer right there. Come and live here, but don't change anything. We don't have room for you unless you submit a request in writing and submit it to the Department of M00d for review and approval. ** Subject to line-item veto. Don't fuck with M00d. **

Any perhaps my gut emotional response was irrational. But there it is. And perhaps I could have called and said, "I am bringing 3 boxes of stuff over. ETA 3 hours. Please initiate mental processing now." But for fuck sake, REALLY?

11:02 pm - 05.17.09
previous | next

Home | Archives | Profile | Notes | DiaryLand | Random Entry