I went back to our old house and dug through the piles of trash and treasure that out oldest son and his stoner friends tossed with no regard into a pile as the evicted us from the Master Bedroom. It was supposed to be so more rooms could be rented, but the thing about renting rooms is you need to collect the rent. In advance. Not after the fact. From stoners. So everything smells of hookahs and poor quality cannabis sativa.
Nevertheless, I was so pleased to find my expensive (to the original owners) sport coats and prom dresses in a pile, not too rumpled. The bags of trash piled on top of them protected them from fecal matter when the cats decided dirty clothes were more hygienic than the never emptied litter box.
So now I have them in my new humble abode in the country. For 1/2 of just the amount I am upside down on my city house I have an acre and a double wide. Apparently we trailer trash types are not usually a 3 personality montage of clothing choices.
My wife has ordered me to cull. I am resisting. She maintains that it is a bit unfair that biologically I am one 1/2 of the couple but have 2/3 of the small closet. She has a point.
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