So I'm in the middle of MAFE project #3,742 (also known as the ridiculously-large-crap-filled closets in the front hall).

I call the stud my husband in for some help, because really? Do we need all this luggage? I mean, SERIOUSLY, exactly HOW MANY pieces of luggage does one family need?

This is bordering on a serious problem.

Maybe even addiction.

As he weeds through the keep/sale stack (*gasp* get rid of the TUMI or HARTMAN *shudder* how dare I?!?), I find one of his old guitar picks in a bag pocket.

HUBBY (look of nostalgia crossing over his face): "Oh. This is when I was cool."

Me: *blink*blink*


HUBBY: (defensive) "SERIOUSLY. Chicks used to line up to get these from me..."

Me: *blink*blink*




Over my guffaws and snorts:

HUBBY: (complete and total dejection) "OH MAN! At least you could just go along with it. I used to have some beautiful girlfriends, you know!"

Yes, honey, and it was all because you had guitar picks engraved with your name.
Don't you ever think differently.
Now that I think of it? It's kinda turning me on right now...


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