Gone to Carolina.

Tonight, I find myself once again packing my life into duffel bags.

It’s odd that there’s something comforting about doing what has become so familiar to me.

I’m moving to Chapel Hill! I’m a happy kid-someone needs to teach me how to do a cartwheel right this very minute. But it’s true-after months of my parents graciously allowing me to use up all of their hot water and breathe up all of their oxygen, I am, through a series of wildly unexpected and inexplicable events, moving into a house with two girls that I just adore.

In a concerted effort not to end up on TLC’s “Hoarders” [terrif. fying. Every time I watch that show, my eyes start to water and my mouth begins to taste like bad gas station coffee.], I’m throwing away a lot of the things I simply couldn’t bear to part with in July when I get home from Senegal. Strands of dirty wooden beads that I thought would make just phenomenal gifts [if you received one of those alleged gifts, you have my heartfelt apology. At the time I was under the delusion that everyone wanted tackily rainbow-colored Senegalese beads.], half used bottles of shampoo and conditioner [and on that note, I really don’t think I’ll need to buy deodorant for at least another year thanks to my Senegal stash. Cheers to that!], filthy biohazard excuses for books…

The list goes on.

It’s all hitting the trash-joined by other treasures I’ve accumulated and kept over the years for some inexplicable reason. Really, I’m honestly rather concerned about myself. I think I go through life believing that everything that becomes mine, I will one day need and therefore can never get rid of. That, coupled with my marvelous habit of breaking anything with a plug can lead to a lot of ubiquitous stuff! You see, “defective” is a big word for me. Many things in my life are labeled “defective” only to miraculously turn functional again once the directions have been read more thoroughly. If the directions are ever read at all.

The aforementioned elephant graveyard of electronics is stressing me out. Along with North Carolina’s bipolar weather, automatic toilets and Newt Gingrich.

In no particular order.

In honor of my impending move and Duke’s impending spanking, I’ll  leave you with this little gem:

If I ever have children, you’ll see them on youtube doing exactly this.

I’ll buy them ponies if I have to!

Go Heels, go America.

Comments

  1. Cindy Peterson says:

    I have come to love the “collections” of your treasures though your appliances do stress me out. Cords. Why so many cords leading to…more cords. Surely there is a cord graveyard somewhere. We could go and bury the dead, have a moment of silence and skip back home to your little room. I don’t believe that rooms can sing but if they did, I’m sure that we would be hearing the Hallelujah Chorus or Ding Dong The Witch is Dead. The next day, ( I speak from experience here,) you will find that you buried the cord that will protect you from scarlet fever or at least will allow you to curl your hair. But my dear, that is what grown ups do. They clean out the old useless things and then spend thousands of dollars replacing them. Most things can be replaced or weren’t really necessary to begin with. Sweet memories, the really precious things are easy to keep and take up very little space. I may turn into a hoarder because I am so incredibly cheap, but I have bundles of memories of life with you that the clean up crew can never take away. I will savor them like exquisite chocolate. To be fair, there are a few that I will vomit. For example, this morning my dreamy cup of coffee became a nightmare as you had used MY coffee maker to make your nasty coffee. Baby, that is why we keep two coffee makers in our home; hers and hers. I wanted to spew. I promptly poured it out, scrubbed my machine and made a new pot muttering under my breath. Some things should be done right or your whole day can come crashing down. A few days ago I could not find my brush. I looked everywhere.” MY KINGDOM FOR A BRUSH”, I shouted.” Oh, I have your brush”, you cheekily replied.It is amazing that I did not throw it at you. But even with the unfortunate memories, ( you should have NEVER messed with your mother’s coffee pot,) I am sad to see you leave. Yes, I am thrilled at what the Lord has done in providing this opportunity for you. I’m excited for you to take another step into adulthood… but I’m not. I will miss your treasures and your cords and sweet baby, I will miss you.

  2. The two of you are hilarious! I think you should co-write a book.

    Ash, you are moving? Were you going to tell me? Clearly this living down the street for months thing didn’t work out so well.

  3. OH my gosh. NOW it makes so much sense – you talk and write so much like your Mom! Define erudite for me, si vous plait?: Peterson family.

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