I'm a material girl

Okay so here's the story. This morning I was minding my own "bidness". I just finished reading my email and I clicked over to Jim's email so it would be all set for him to read, 'cause I'm nice that way. My eye caught an email sent from my sister-in-law with the subject "dresser". Well, this piqued my curiosity, and since it was from a family member, I didn't feel like it was prying if I read it.

She was sending an email to all the siblings stating that they were downsizing and wanted to get rid of an antique dresser that once belonged to Jim's parents. If none of the siblings were interested, then she was going to open it up to the grandchildren.

Now. My husband doesn't even feel the NEED to mention this little tidbit to me.

Why?

Because he is NOT materialistic.

I, on the other hand, am.

Don't get me wrong. I don't go for fancy cars; my fingers don't drip with diamond rings, and no - I don't own any furs. But I am a sucker for family heirlooms. And having nice things for the HOME.

Granted, I don't HAVE a home right now.

But I WILL have a "someday home", God willing and the creek don't rise.

I have a storage unit filled with stuff to prove it. Silly, I know. Five years of paying for storage. I could have bought all new stuff. But I can NOT replace things that my father made for me - he died in 1995. I can NOT replace the rocking chair that I rocked my babies to sleep in.

I have boxes and boxes of Christmas decorations, photographs, books I couldn't part with, and yes, even an old dresser from when I was growing up. My sister, Linda, wrote in INK in the bottom drawer something to the effect of, "I hate the twins so much!" That right there is priceless!

Anyway, I did get rid of the majority of our stuff when we (read Jim) decided to hit the road. We gave most of our furniture to our kids. I stored my kitchen set because it was only a year old. I wanted to save my bedroom set for my "someday house" - put it in a second bedroom for guests.

There was a problem.

Jim and our son, Jason, couldn't get my dresser down the stairs.

Now, somehow the movers got it UP the stairs, but who am I to judge here?

So the two guys struggled with the dresser, it got stuck in the stairwell, Jason ran to the neighbors for help, they STILL couldn't get it down the stairs. WTF???

So my husband said, "That's it. I'll just have to CUT IT UP!"

You heard me.

So there I sat at the bottom of the stairs, crying, as Jim went to my dresser with a chain saw. (He would interrupt here and say it wasn't a chain saw but another saw.) The point is - it was very symbolic - he was ripping my heart apart, like the dresser, by getting rid of my stuff.

His side of the story? "The dresser was a piece of crap. The bottom was falling out. It had scratches on it. No big deal."

Another case of he said/she said.

If Jim had his druthers, he would have gotten rid of EVERYTHING. He said, "Why don't I just take pictures of everything, put it on the computer, and any time you are feeling melancholy, just call up the pictures and look at the stuff?"

Yep. That's my old man.

So now you know why he didn't bother telling me about the email.

I told him that I want the dresser.

"WHY?" He asked me incredulously, looking at me like I just grew two heads.

"Because - I have nothing from your parents, and I would love to have this."

"Where are we going to put this?" Asked the-glass-is-half-full-pessimist.

"In storage."

"Where in storage?"

"If it doesn't fit one of my siblings will hold it for me," I answered off the top of my head.

So Jim sent a reply to my sister-in-law. Hope we're not too late.

Now we have to figure out how to get that sucker down to us. It's in Minnesota.


Just call me Madonna.



But you won't find me wearing one of these.



At least not in public.