Stuff

So. The Husband has an old pick-up truck that he drives. It's one of those pick-ups with a small backseat (almost no room for, you know, legs). This afternoon he called me out to look at all the stuff he had removed from that area of his truck. It's really hard to imagine how all the stuff was fit in there, given that it wasn't piled so high as to prohibit his seeing out the back window when he looked in the rearview mirror. Anyway - the dogs and I examined the pile. I naively imagined that he was cleaning up! And going to pare the pile down! Apparently not - he came in later and said he'd gotten it all back in there. Why????? His theory is that it's all stuff he might need at some point - rain gear, tools of various sorts, a baseball bat (is that a weapon? or is he anticipating a sudden game breaking out?), multiple tarps, shopping bags, etc. etc. etc. I argue that if he needed something he'd never even be able to find it if it wasn't right at the top of the pile. This is the hoarding situation I live with. We're not talking about empty pizza boxes and dead cats, but we're definitely talking STUFF.

Also? That lugubrious expression is the one that is always on Roxxy's face. She's a very deadpan dog. Also hilarious.