My husband is a pack rat. If you know him, you are laughing right now, thinking, “pack rat is putting it nicely.” For heaven’s sake, the man would have his gall stones in a jar on a shelf in the basement if Dr. John had given them to him.
He is incapable of throwing anything out.
When my sister helped me organize the house about 3 years ago, she commented that she came across a picture of him with his first wife and his sister and her first husband.
“Do you want to see it?”
I’ll pass. OK, maybe I peeked. I was dying to see what the evil ex-husband looked like and slightly curious about the ex-wife.
Curiousity killed the cat.
So when we finally got into the “the-bastard-will-be-in-breach-of-contract-if-he-bails” portion of this house selling crap, I realized that curbing the beast was going to be more difficult than I could probably imagine. You wouldn’t believe the amount of stuff he snuck past me and squirreled away in one of the TWO PODS. But I will not be thwarted this time. It’s a fire sale over here. Everything goes.
So when he went to work yesterday, I started on the kitchen. I could not poor those bottles of expired salsa down the drain fast enough. Olives (hate ’em)–gone. The water they are in is not supposed to be cloudy, is it? How about that cranberry sauce (using the “sauce” term lightly) in the can marked JAN2001? Edible when fresh? Debatable. Edible now? Not so much. I was very sad to see that 47 grams of carbs per serving go down the drain. We read “The Omnivore’s Dilemma.” It’s not like we are going to eat that can of Chef Boyardee ever again.
Anything canned and unexpired went into the donation box. Scandalous, I say. Double scandalous if your husband has been building up a food pantry in the basement that would make the Mormon’s pantry look bare. When the big one hits, I’m gonna be glad. Until then, I’m going to mock him incessantly.
K: I got rid of most of the stuff in the pantry.
D: Why did you do that?
K: One word for you. 1999. Or is that 3 words?
D: HEY. That food is still good.
K: How about this? At the end of the world, I’ll take a pass on a meal.
He’ll hold me to it. You can be sure of it…Share on Facebook