Jay often accuses me of being a hoarder. You can read this old post about my hoarding of baby teeth.
So, yes. I admit I am guilty of the above-mentioned tooth collection as well as a large collection of cardboard boxes. In my defense, you just know that the second I get rid of the big pile of shoeboxes in the laundry room, a note will come home from school telling me that my child needs to bring in a shoebox for some Very Important Project worth 90 percent of her grade. You just know this will happen.
But I need to point out that Jay is not completely innocent in the hoarding department. Jay hoards meat.
Jay works for a meat company that often gives away free meat. He brings home any free meat that he can, no matter what it is, and puts it in the freezer. The only way we are allowed to get rid of said meat is to have it pass through our bodies.
The other day I was rummaging through the freezer and found …
Ham eyes! Ham eyes??!?! Ham! Eyes! (Begin the Psycho music: “Ree! Ree! Ree!”)
I texted Jay an accusatory photo of the ham eyes, and he suggested we have the eyes for dinner. We did not. He has not thrown the ham eyes away.
So, this is how I live. I go to bed each night next to a dresser filled with old baby teeth, worrying that the ham eyes are going to crawl out of the freezer in the basement and come find me.
Ree! Ree! Ree!