Am I the only one who vividly remembers a voiceover for a bubble bath ad from [many] years ago?
No matter, I want Calgon to take me away. Now. We’re entering our third week of doing absolutely nothing but work on the house whenever we have a moment and we’re kind of tired of it. A lot tired of it, actually. We’re down to the last of it, but I’ve hit a wall and I want to be done. And maybe read my new Vogue magazine. Or a book.
I have to give props to J who has had to do a lot more work than I, including suffering considerable mental anguish at having to part with some trusted treasures he has been hoarding for the bulk of our marriage. He has tried to educate me about the psychology of this problem of his, but I haven’t been able to park my car in the garage for about two years, so I’m not inclined to sympathize.
When we got married and pooled all of our earthly belongings, I noticed these two flat pacakges of Ilford photo paper. Unopened. Naively, I asked about them and their intended use and was essentially told they were being saved for later. I had no idea that I’d been snowed.
These packages of photo paper have travelled with us to Nashville and Minneapolis and sat in storage for nearly three years while we lived overseas.
We were cleaning out the upstairs a few nights ago, and after some ‘gentle’ persuasion, J agreed to toss the packages of woefully un-usable photo paper that had cost a lot of money at some point.
It only took twelve years for this to occur.
Brings a tear to my eye, really.