It’s official. I have married my father.

January 22, 2010

They say it’s quite common.  Many women end up marrying men like their dads.  Maybe it’s a physical resemblance (kinda icky if you think about it) or maybe your husband has very similar traits/characteristics your father has (this could be good). 

I think my dad is pretty awesome.  Most of the time I also think my husband is pretty awesome too.  Especially when his parents are not around. 

But I have to say, my dad is a pack rat.  He keeps EVERYTHING.  In fact, he has a piece of wood he found on the side of the road in Windsor BEFORE I WAS BORN.  This piece of wood has moved houses four times since then.  And it still hasn’t been used.  That’s right.  It’s currently sitting in my parents’ basement, against the wall by the stairs, just waiting.  Waiting for what I do not know.  But it was too good to pass up my dad says.  He might have a use for it one day.  So far it’s been nearly 40 years and he has yet to figure out what to do with it.  Some days I swear my mom is a martyr.

I used to laugh at this kind of stuff.  I mean it’s pretty funny right.  My dad keeps all kinds of useless crap in the hopes that on that one occasion when he needs something like oh, a wooden pallet, all he has to do is go out to the shed/garage/his workshop and there it is.  Wooden pallet emergency averted.

Yeah.  So.  DH came home from his parents’ house last weekend with a load of stuff for the cottage.  Which is quickly turning into a repository of other people’s crap, but that’s another rant.  Anyway, lovingly nestled in amongst the boxes of mostly useful stuff were three empty carboard boxes.  One had previously held Rubbermaid containers, one had held some sort of no-name version of a Chia pet and one, well, I was so annoyed at this point I don’t know what it originally held.

So I asked DH what he was planning on doing with these boxes (I was thinking kindling for the wood stove at the cottage) and he replied nothing.  Ummm nothing?  Well, he said, they were perfectly good boxes and we could use them for something one day, maybe for wrapping presents.  Ummm maybe for filling the blue bin.  Which funnily enough made him annoyed.

Which in turn made me annoyed.  We have an attic FULL of dusty, emptycardboard boxes left over from our move.  Nearly TWO years ago.  I can’t get rid of these boxes because we MIGHT need them one day (believe me DH does random checks to make sure he still has enough boxes and I haven’t tossed any out when he wasn’t looking).  Doesn’t matter that we can get boxes from my office.  Or the grocery store.  Or Costco.  Nope.  We might have a cardboard box emergency when those places are closed and whatever would we do?

Now I’m not sure what a cardboard box emergency consists of.  Would it entail not having enough boxes to store Christmas ornaments?  Which, for the record at Casa NotSoClean, are stored in giant plastic bins.  Would it entail not having enough boxes to store yarn?  Also stored in giant plastic bins/Ikea shelving.  Off season clothes and shoes?  Nope…more giant plastic bins.  Hmmm, how about using them to transport stuff up to the cottage?  Nope, that’s what laundry tubs are for….stuff goes up inthem and dirty laundry comes home in them.  Oddly, DH couldn’t explain what a cardboard box emergency entailed either.  He didn’t want to talk about it anymore.  Which is how I know I’m right but he won’t admit it.

There are worse things DH could hoard  keep I suppose.  Cardboard boxes are pretty good for temporarily storing things and even if they do sit up in the attic all empty and dusty, I don’t have to see them unless I open choose to rummage about in the storage closets which happens oh, NEVER.  And, if worse comes to worst and our furnace breaks, we could burn them to stay warm until the repair man comes.

It’s true though.  I’ve found and married a younger version of my packrat father.  And if DH ever comes home with a piece of wood he’s found on the side of the road I’m pretty sure I’ll hear my mom laughing…from three cities away.