well, the house is almost pile free now if you don't count the wedding gifts stacked behind the couch that need to be returned or the pile in the kitchen of garage sale or the pile by the laundry closet of luggage and shoes or those in the bedroom of N's luggage and my laundry basket. who knew that getting married felt so much more like moving?
yesterday as i was unpacking gift bags and boxes and mulling over the science of making the most of my square footage in comparison with stuff, a lighting bolt epiphany hit me: what the hell was i thinking? when i registered i must have been taken away in a bliss of beeping that made me think that i lived in a mansion that afforded me to the luxury to house 2 juicers, 5 pasta servers & 8 of each alcoholic beverage glass.
thus the evolution of the return pile. Yes, i hate to return the pasta serving bowl but it being so much like the 2 vegetable bowls i have (and have already used thus making them impossible to return) it must got back to it's pretty place on the shelf of a well lit store. also, N broke my will and managed to finally convince me that our little apartment will never have 8 guests all of whom have a desperate ache for some white wine. so we compromised and i'll keeping only 4 of all the glasses i registered for. this compromise came when he said "if by some rare act of god we actually do have 8 guests all wanting white wine i'm sure they'll be ok if we serve it to them out of red wine glasses." ok, i responded and let go of my grip on the box of glasses.
getting married makes you momentarily greedy lending to the belief that cupboard space is vast. but getting married also provides another voice way beyond the me. me. me. of it all. one that speaks to my logic rather than my emotions and provides that balance that i had been searching for all the way to the aisle.
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