Modern Hoarders

 

My phone rang, a Lexington number, and I prepared my, “Sorry, we moved five years ago but never changed the cells” spiel.

“Ms. Powell?” The woman’s voice was hesitating, as if she were surprised I had answered.

“Ye-ess?” I have no more professional connections in Kentucky. Friends, yes. Strangers who think my last name is Merriman and want to sell me life insurance? Yes. But people who call me by my own last name and yet somehow know better than to say “Mrs.”? None.

“This is Tessa from Central bank in …”

And I knew. The safe deposit box. We’ve tripped over those fucking keys for five years and not sent them back.… Read the rest

When the Books Close In

Right now, in the room we call our office, there are books. A shitload of them. They aren’t all mine. Aren’t even MOST mine. And they don’t confine themselves to the office. They are everywhere. Here are just a few examples.

Mine:

OK, so I don't have them completely stuffing EVERY corner

His:

And Neither Does He

Ours:

But working together, we're pretty darned close

and Theirs:

And our children have learned well from usAlthough technically, standing up these would give us enough room to also include the ones you can't see that he's thrown behind the bed

And maybe that wouldn’t be so bad, but there are three full bookcases I didn’t even bother to feature, plus another one that is empty. And then there are the boxes. Boxes and boxes and BOXES

Yes. That's also books. Every boxof the exact same thing.

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a flicker of inspiration at Lightning BugI’m linking this up with The Lightning Bug’s “Flicker of Inspiration” #27, “Here with Me”.… Read the rest