Thursday, March 12, 2009

Pack Rats Cure Cancer

Today I was channelling my unused energy into organizing the house. I decided to tackle one room at a time and go through EVERY SINGLE THING in the room, if I have not needed it, did not wear it, or could not remember the last time I used it then I was getting rid of it. Today I am tackling the bedroom, specifically going through the mountain of books I own. Most of the books are painfully hard to sort. I have a “must keep”, a “would like to keep but probably should trade it in for something else”, and a “I hate it, I would like to burn you, please take it away pile”. After sorting through all the books once I only had two books in the “I hate” pile and that was my Algebra book from 9th grade and a book on how to plan your first budget. Obviously I am way past planning my first budget, I think I am on budget number 3,462 and I have YET sadly to successfully stay on one for more than 3 days. And I am not even sure about the Algebra book because you just know that the day I toss it out some scientist is going to discover that the cure to cancer was written on page 242 right after the discussion of Exponents and Operations of Exponents. If only someone in the world had saved their copy! See this is absolute proof that the crazy packrats are not just hording a bunch of meaningless stuff we are actually just trying to save the world.

So because I did so badly the first round I grabbed a bottle of wine, and drinking straight from the bottle because I was in pack rat mourning and I thought this called for an entire bottle of wine, I sorted through the books a second time being very cut-throat, if I did not LOVE the book and I would rather keep the wine in my hand than the book then it was going in “the please get rid of me pile”. On my second attempt, and let me note I give all the credit to the wine, things went a lot better, that is until I shut the box and walked off only to realize an HOUR later that I had accidentally shut poor Seurat in with the “I hate/burn/away” book box. In a moment of sheer panic I realized that instead of meowing his head off he was obviously taking care of the situation himself. I found him slowly eating his way out of the box. He almost had his ENTIRE head through a hole he had made. I could not decide if I was impressed or really scared that the cardboard was going to do permanent damage to his digestive track. I guess in some twisted cat universe cardboard could be misconstrued as fiber.

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