Mercifully, the oppressive Florida summer weather has finally lifted revealing pleasantly cool conditions - perfect for us to tackle the task of unpacking all the boxes stashed in our garage since April’s move.
As Dick and I opened and sorted dusty boxes and their nearly forgotten contents, I was reminded of the same conversation we’ve had year after year for about the last 10 years…
Me: Honey, why do we have all these boxes that say “computer cables”, “computer parts”…and here’s another one that says “computer crap”? Shouldn’t you just go through these and throw out some stuff?
Dick: Just set it aside and I’ll get to it later.
Me: There’s no time like the present! How about you dig in now and get it over with. I can help you. There’s no sense in paying to move it just because you don’t feel like sorting through it now.
Dick: I’m not going to take the time to do it now. I’d rather pay someone to move it and then sort it out when we’re not in a rush - when it’s more convenient.
Fast forward to yesterday.
We’ve moved 7 times in the past 10 years never having found a “convenient” time to go through all the accumulated computer stuff. In fact, we’ve only added more boxes onto the pile year after year. After unveiling our gazillionth box o’ miscellaneous computer crap…
Dick: Holy cow do we ever have a lot of boxes full of computer stuff! Every other box I open is crammed full of cables, disks, parts, and monitors… How did you allow me hang onto this crap for all these years? There’s just box after box, after box of it. It’s ridiculous!
Me: What do you mean, “how did I allow…?” I’ve been begging, threatening, bargaining, and nagging you to get rid of this crap for years! Every time we have this conversation you tell me you’d rather pay someone to move it and then deal with it later - when it’s “convenient”.
Dick: Did I say that? I don’t think I said that. No. I can’t believe I’d say something like that…
Me: So, your honor and members of the jury, that is how Samantha finally snapped. After 10 years of schlepping boxes full of junk from coast to coast, agonizing over them, paying extra to ensure their safe arrival at every destination, cleaning around them while all the while begging her husband to do something, anything to free her from this terrible burden - she snapped. And who can blame her? What reasonable person wouldn’t grab the nearest broken, obsolete 5 port Ethernet hub and bludgeon her husband to death under these circumstances?
Dick: A simple yes or no would suffice.
Raw Drip is one woman's raw, wry, fresh, and cheeky take on parenting, relationships, life, and other important stuff. I started writing Raw Drip because my friends are scattered all over the place and as a working mother with two toddlers I have no time to talk to them on the phone, meet them for a cup of coffee - or bathe regularly. Instead, I sit my stinky solo self down at my computer and write about all the things I used to talk with them about - and then I share it all with you - my fan base, my readership, my loyal drips.
Some of you have asked about the site name, Raw Drip, what does it mean? The name was inspired by the freshly perked cup of coffee I was drinking when I decided to start writing. I guess people see the word "raw" and just assume that the name has something to do with porn. It doesn't. I also don't write about: raw meat storage, raw food dieting, photos of people in the raw, or an obscure Japanese band named Raw Drip.
So dudes, if you've inadvertently stumbled upon my site while surfing for porn, my apologies. Unfortunately for you, you've landed in a place that's all chick-chat, with occasional penis references thrown in just for fun. At Raw Drip, the truth is harsh. But if you're man enough to handle it, keep reading. If not, move it along...
There. Are we all clear now? No porn here.
Happy Reading!
Samantha
Big Drip, Mom, wife and training geek
Edna Lee
October 28th, 2008 at 11:42 pm
You’re crafty… Fashion some sort of objet d’arte out of all those cables, cords, disks, and other pieces of IT crap and leave it on the driver’s seat of his car! At the very least, you’ll end up with an interesting talking point in your garage instead of a box of junk.