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9to5to9: Drowning in disorganization

Submitted by on Friday, 29 August 2008 No Comment

Big Guy barreled up the sidewalk this evening with big news.

“”Hey Mom! Look in the trunk! I got you lots of stuff at Baba’s garage sale.”"

My attempt at a smile made me look like a victim of bad Botox — I didn’t want to crush him by scowling at the treasures he was about to proudly present, but I’ve seen his hauls from Baba’s garage sales before.

And Baba is to rummage what Nathan Detroit is to craps: “”It’s the oldest established permanent floating garage sale in California.”" Except it never floats. It stays right in Baba’s drive way, where the guys can find it.

Tonight’s gems:

  • A Christmas tree stocking hanger: Cute, but there was only one, ensuring December battles.
  • A horse-riding teddy bear knick knack
  • A Dora the Explorer episode on VHS — at least we still have a player
  • A two-foot square pillow in autumn colors and a 70s pattern.

Help, help, I’m drowning! Someone throw me a life preserver!

On second thought, don’t. It would just add to the mess. My clutterstration is at record highs this week already. I’ve been on vacation and haven’t made any progress. I think it’s gotten worse.

Just take a trip through my living room — literally. There are plastic Hot Wheels knock offs and coloring books with few uncolored pages. Shoe boxes and the evil police car. The contents of a plastic tool box and Crappy Meal toys. I don’t mind the big stuff pushed into the corners — the Thomas pop-out tent and the white board/chalk boar easel. It’s the arch-impaling, toe-breaking tiny stuff that makes me feel like I’m being waterboarded by play things.

I’m telling you, it’s a conspiracy to drive me mad. I don’t even buy little toys anymore, having figured out long ago that 1,800 square feet of crap in a 1,600-square-foot house doesn’t work. But I can’t stem the tide of it rushing into the house.

OK, I’m lying. I am a bit of an enabler myself. There’s a bag on the dining room table with two rolls of Scotch tape and two packs of stickers I bought during an errand run this week. The tape is self-preservation, though: I’m tired of not being able to find my desk dispenser when I need it. And at least the stickers are supposed to be disposable and no one cries weeks later when they realize they’re gone.

A lot more of it is going to be disposed of soon. The guys have an excursion with Dad planned for Saturday, and I have plans of my own.

Enjoy life here while you can, tiny toys. A bunch of you are going overboard this weekend.

Copyright 2008 Debra Legg. All rights reserved.”

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