The strangeness lingers

by Janie Jones

Yesterday evening, when I finally disengaged my self from the blogosphere (yes, it was painful, but had to be done), I found myself face to face with this:

I’m not the one moving.  I hate moving.  I mean loathe moving, with the intensity of a thousand white hot suns.  I shall positively rue the day when moving becomes a necessary evil once again.  Today is not that day.

So it would be strange to find myself schlepping furniture, poorly packed bags and containers of personal items up and down stairs, into trailers and finding it consume my living room.  How does this evil magic work?

The answer my friend is simple dollars and cents.  And I have a death grip on the purse strings.

The spud had two complete homes.  At daddy’s new house apparently Uncle Curt had a guest room already made up with furniture and bedding for the spud.  Daddy is the kinda guy who doesn’t really care about monetary loss and would have otherwise just given all her things away.  Me, I’m a tight frugal bastard.  Nothing gets thrown away until I’m damn sure there’s not even a garage sale quarter in it.

Hence, my living room now looks like the ex’s apartment barfed all over it.


2 Comments to “The strangeness lingers”

  1. Whatever you do, don’t let the garage sale denizens use your bathroom.

  2. Good heavens no! This is a quality establishment, much more upscale than Walmart.

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