X is having a love affair of epic proportions with his bachelor pad apartment. I swear to Gucci it’s taking him forever to get the hell out of there. He keeps saying he threw out and/or donated a lot of stuff, and that “there’s not that much left.” But then I go over there and his version of “not that much” is my version of “ohmygod we need a Hoarders style intervention.” He’ll be in good company though since my family should be there too. In fact, gotta love them, we dumped a ton of X’s stuff off on them. They don’t even ask questions. They just opened the garage and took it all in, right in the middle of Sunday’s blizzard.
To be fair, X says I have a problem not with hoarding, but with saying no to my mother. She has dumped more sheets and towels off on me over the years, most of which are obsolete because today’s deep mattresses just don’t accommodate sheets from 1954. I’m learning, though. Before we left their house this time my mom tried to pawn her wares off on us.
Gloom: Do you want the king size sheets I have upstairs?
Me: We don’t even have a king size bed.
Gloom: Well, in case you get one.
Me: We’re not getting one until we move, and at this rate, it will be forever. Besides, all the sheets you give me don’t fit the bed. Then we go sliding off the mattresses I wake up with fitted sheet in the crack of my ass.
Gloom: Okay. I’ll keep them upstairs for you. Let me know when you want them.
Me: No more linens. We’re drowning in linens!
Gloom: They’ll be here when you’re ready.
Okay, Okay, I know. I didn’t exactly ward that off, just postponed it until a later date. Baby steps.
When X went to pick up the rental truck at Budget, they asked if he wanted insurance. He said that our insurance covered him, and the truck rental guy said it probably didn’t. X called the insurance company to find out it would cover liability but not damage, so he opted for that insurance. I grew up with a dad who laughed at all those add-ons, sniffing them out as a profit center. He always took his chances and I never saw it backfire. Because the Baklava doesn’t fall far from the tree Box from Swiss Colony, I never added any type of insurance to any car rental. The one time I bought that Circuit City extended warranty for my Sony Walkman in 1994 I was almost disowned. But when it comes to insurance, my husband is a different story.
X loves insurance. If X could manage this, he would cheat on me with insurance. He would have a three way with his car insurance and life insurance. When his health insurance showed up, it would be a disgusting, no holes spared, orgy. They do not make insurance the man doesn’t have. He would buy insurance insurance if there were such a product. I have cheated the insurance thing left and right in his eyes – most notably when we rented a car in Napa and they took two hours to process us and we had been first in line (also Budget rental by the way.) I was so hungry that when they asked if I wanted insurance I practically gouged their eyes out. “GIVE ME THE CAR AND NO I DON’T WANT YOUR FUCKING INSURANCE!!” X told me I would regret this. I didn’t. However what I did regret was not upgrading to a luxury car because the morons forgot to charge my credit card. For any of it. Score!
Anyway, back to the truck rental. We went outside to inspect the truck, noted the existing damage, and X said he would meet me back at his place. The truck rental guy said, “Do you want me to pull it out for you?” X said he could do it. I heard the guy say “Are you sure” and X again declined his offer. As I was walking across the parking lot to my car (which is currently idling like it’s driving through the Sub-Sahara!?!) and started the engine. I went out a different exit and was waiting and waiting and waiting, and no X. I gave up and headed toward home when he called me.
Me: Where are you?
X: Just got out of the parking lot. Did you see what happened?
Me: No. I totally lost track of you.
X: When I was pulling out of the parking lot I hit the trailer next to me.
Great. I just got home and found a sock on the doorknob.