Don't Look in the Basement

When I was a little boy, our house on Ravinia Drive had a big basement. That basement was where my mom stuck us when there were tornado warnings. It was where we set up our electric train sets, played 'house', and played 'town' (A more involved version of playing house). It was where we kept our hamsters, and it is where we learned that mother hamsters will eat their babies. It is also where mother hamster died when she fell into the sump pump hole. Had to have a sump pump, that place flooded every time a squirrel cried. The basement was also the place my older brother Dave slept when he hit puberty.

We are making some good headway putting our new home together here in Chicago. The only problem is that we moved a shit load of furniture from Florida only to chuck much of it in favor of new stuff. Kind of like I figured it would happen. Yes, Mark is making the most out of this opportunity to go shopping. Every day there is something new that we need even though there are boxes and boxes of crap that we schlepped up from Florida. Not to worry though, Mark has a solution to the problem of too much crap. In fact it's his new favorite phrase.

"Put it in the basement."

Too many dishes? "Put them in the basement."

Don't need the old sofa because we bought a new one that looks better in the new place? "Put it in the basement."

"Put it in the basement."

"Put it in the basement."

"Put it in the basement."

Who knew? I'm a hoarder enabler. We may need an intervention.