I spent the week cleaning out my worthy-of-it’s-own-show-series-on-Hoarders basement because it’s getting a makeover. Y’all. I found so many things down there. I found five dollars and eighty seven cents and four forever stamps. And then I felt old because I was way more excited about finding the stamps than the actual cash money. Because stamps are expensive, yo.
Remember when you had to lick stamps? I would really enjoy it if we all agreed to go back to that. I loved licking stamps. When I was a little girl it was my job to stamp the church bulletins, back before these fun sucking things called “postage machines” and even though I had one of those little sponge squeezer water bottles I did not use it. Oh no I did not. I licked every one of those suckers because I really cared about the flock. You’re welcome, Saint Andrew’s Lutheran Church. You. Are. Welcome. Especially because I’m not even Lutheran. My grandmother just worked at your church and pawned the bulletin stamping off on me.
Anyhow, I am purging about 90% of my scrapbooking supplies. Not because I don’t love scrapbooking. Because I found approximately forty two unopened packs of rub-ons circa 2005. That is a problem. I used to be a big vintage-style scrapbooker but that doesn’t work for me anymore so I packaged up my stash and put it all in my etsy shop for five bucks. Feel free to buy it. Because a dollar makes me holla.
I know. I can’t believe I just said that either. I completely understand if you feel the need to judge me right now. If it redeems me at all, I did not watch Honey Boo Boo’s new show. But that might be because I don’t have cable. I’m really cheap like that.
Because I spent one hundred and forty two hours clearing out the basement, I had a ton of extra boxes to put out with our recycling. This is because when we moved into this house nearly three years ago, we got tired of unpacking and just tossed all of the moving boxes in the basement and said we’d deal with it later. And be “we” I mean me. Also, I uncovered three pieces of china, one of Jeff’s missing tool sets and a clown in our so-called-unpacked-boxes. Andplusalso, I’m not even lying about the clown. Boxes? DEALT WITH. I totally keep my word.
So I called the trash company because I remember them saying that I needed to do that if I had more than five boxes and I had five boxes plus one batrillion. Twenty minutes into my conversation with customer service agent I’m no further along in my quest to convince her that yes they do deliver to me. Yes, I’m sure. How am I sure? Because I can see your trash can in my driveway. What color is it? It’s grey, obviously.
Turns out, their trash cans are green. And also, just because a trash company starts their name with “Waste” does not necessarily mean they are YOUR trash company. Apparently that’s a pretty popular word in the waste disposal industry. Who knew?
I finally get the correct trash company on the phone and I remember why I hate them and keep meaning to switch companies. I should probably call back the green can company because that lady was really patient with me. I’m sure she’d love to have me as a new customer because I was not at all annoying in our previous conversation. Plus, I like the color green.
For one thing, they tell me AGAIN that I have a three dollar late fee. I’m all “Lady you don’t even know me. I do not get late fees. And also, I’m enrolled in online auto-pay so there’s that.” To which I’m informed that my late fee is because I haven’t paid the paper statement charge. Which I haven’t. Because I don’t get paper statements. BECAUSE I’M ENROLLED IN ONLINE AUTO-PAY. Then to add insult to injury, my trash company wants to charge me fifty cents PER BOX to recycle every additional box over five. I do some quick math in my head and I could be a bit off because of my inability to add, subtract, multiply or divide but I guesttimate that this will cost me about half a batrillion dollars.
I can’t not even process this in my head and not just because big numbers give me a migraine. But because of my affliction called “being thrifty.” I mean, the only reason I’m even getting rid of these boxes is because I promised Jeff that I would NOT attempt to make the world’s largest cardboard box fort. He totally doesn’t understand how that could make me a Pinterest super star. I’m like “Jeff. We could make a box fort as big as our house. We could LIVE IN IT and not have to pay our mortgage anymore and then we could afford to pay the trash company to take all of the boxes away.”
No one understands me.
