My life in boxes.

My infrequent posting as of late can only mean on thing — we are about to move. On September 29th, to be exact. We move to a hotel for one month, and then to the house we cannot afford but we insist on having. Plenty of people use ketchup to flavor their spaghetti noodles, right?

We have been busy packing and throwing stuff out. Note to self: call the Sharpie company and tell them to make “Sharpie on a Rope.” A Sharpie that hangs around one’s neck is desperately needed in this world. If I ask untitledhusband where my Sharpie is one more time, he will see to it that I have one permanently lodged up my ass.

Perfectly good stuff that I forgot we even had must now be tossed. Things like coagulated hand lotion, clumpy nail polish, and antiquated hair product that has no business being around my follicular regions or an open flame, for that matter. Among some of my more interesting finds:

My electric leg shaver. My mother got it for me when I was 12, along with a maxi-pad “belt” (she had no clue about technological advances in the feminine hygeine industry, given that she had a hysterectomy 10 years earlier).

A bath “bomb” for scenting and carbonating one’s bath water. So THAT’S how you do that (take note, untitledhusband).

My old Caboodle, complete with abadoned make-up remnants eyebrow pencil shavings. I would still be using it, but everyone makes fun of me. Haters, the whole lot of you. Begrudging a girl her Caboodle. You should be ashamed.

13 red Virgin Mary candles that we used for decor at our 2000 Halloween party. Yeah, I know. Going to hell, we are. But at least our path will be well-lit (much like we were on that night).

Not one, not two, not three, but FOUR rolls of medical tape. Perhaps I should use this to seal some of my boxes. Brilliant.

Not one, not two, not three, but FOUR tubes of antibiotic cream. So why is it I can never find this stuff when I need to treat a wound?

Disposable nursing pads and nipple cream, both unused. What a shame. And no, the nipple cream does not heat up upon application, which is a damn shame.

A near-empty bottle of Vicks Vapo-Rub (which pervy untitledhusband uses to get high).

Several hair dryer attachments (diffusers et al). Who uses these things?

Some other things I unearthed, but did not toss:

Three boxes of children’s band-aids (Dora, Care Bears, Cars), but NO adult band-aids. That’s not to say untitledhusband hasn’t slapped on a Cars band-aid, though (and liked it).

Three boxes of pantyliners. Methinks they might make some damn fancy post-it notes. Quilted and scented, even!

A battalion of crusty curling and straightening irons. I could never toss aside my comrades, seeing as how I am responsible for their current condition. Not that they have ever done ME any favors.

That’s about it, for now. I’ll keep you posted as I continue to unearth such treasures amongst our stockpiles of junk.

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