My garage smells like pizza. Yes, pizza. Despite heroic efforts on my part to purge un-needed items twice (once when we listed and once again when we packed for the move), there's still CRAP all over my new house! I have already filled two big dish pack boxes with donations. I'm not sure my accountant is going to buy the thousands of dollars of stuff we've donated in a six month period, but I have pictures of everything for the IRS.
So, onto the pizza smell. One of the items I that had stowed away in my stuff was an older bottle of roasted garlic olive oil. Old enough to raise concerns of botulism (nice). So I put it with a pile of stuff to pour down the sink and dispose of. Instead, my husband (shocker) put the OPEN bottle in a garbage bag and threw it away. I guess there are worse smells...
Speaking of which, how about feet? Anyone like the smell of feet? Wouldn't you just love your clothes to smell like feet? I don't know if I've mentioned, but we have much less closet space in our new (bigger) house than the old one. It hasn't been pretty at all. Especially since my husband has more clothes than I do! No, I'm not kidding. Not quite sure what metrosexual issues are going on there, but it's ridiculous. What makes it even MORE ridiculous is that he wears a uniform five or six days a week!
Anyway, he's trying to scale down, which is good. Even so, we're fighting for every inch and even had to convert a linen closet into clothes storage. The other day I walk into our (small) closet, which has two rows of shelves with the rod attached. On top of the lower shelf, directly beneath MY hanging clothes is a line of shoes. His MAN shoes that he puts his stinky FEET into. Uh, are you kidding me!? Do you really think I want the odors of your shoes wafting up into my girl clothes? What an idiot.
So, as usual I sign off to return to the task of unpacking and organizing. How long will this go on? No comment! All I can say is thank God it's time to do my taxes too, I hate being bored.
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