Saturday, April 09, 2011

Tiny Boxes.

Maybe you saw these little boxes before.
I made them back when we lived in Milwaukee.
I have a feeling that T is trying to throw them away.
Or at the very least, I am being forced to choose enough of my stuff to only fill this little box.
Based on the noises and grunting I hear downstairs, she is feverishly packing and tossing things away.
Why, I wonder, is she doing this?
Why must everyday that I get to be at home with my family be filed with so much chaos and cursing?
Since when did all my little treasures become fair game to the plundering mitts of my wife and son?

I understand the idea behind it all.
I myself enjoy a clean, sparsely filled room.
All things in their right places and dust free.
But you know, there is something to be said for keepsakes.
I know it is silly, but I can't help but feel like I kept certain things for certain reasons.
Sure I could stand to part with some of this stuff, why not? It's not like I remember all the reasons why I kept it all in the first place. But I hate the feeling of being forced to choose, and feeling pushed and rushed into it isn't helping the process.
Not one bit!

The order and routine that I have created is being bashed down around me.
This is simply no good.

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No dick heads please.