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So, my dad does this thing where he hoards newspapers, claiming he will go through them at some point. Of course, he never does. They pile up and get migrated to the garage and pile up some more. We gave him an ultimatum once; the papers were forfeit if he didn't dealt with them by a certain time. The deadline passed, we shamefully did not follow through, and they continued to pile up.
Until yesterday.
I want to use the garage for my own purposes (painting, practicing guitar where no one can hear or judge, etc), so I decided I might as well clear out the massive stacks of newspapers. And thus, I found myself decked out in gardening gloves, battling giant silverfish and cobwebs and being eaten alive by mosquitoes, while hauling armfuls with headlines about Bush when he was still governor of Texas. (I also could not make myself stop listening to Panic! At The Disco or Placebo, but that's neither here nor there.)
I took out the middle seat of our minivan (woot), and folded the back seat up vertical and slid it all the way forward. Then I filled the entire back with newspapers and magazines--three stacks wide, five or six stacks deep, and three feet tall. I wish I'd taken a picture, because it was seriously impressive. This afternoon, I drove the whole lot to a recycling center and unloaded it all again, and tomorrow I will proceed to clean out the garage.
Of course, my dad was pissed. No matter how many chances or warnings I gave him, he was still going to be cranky, so I'm glad I went for the fast-bandaid-ripping approach. He's been sulking ever since, yay. *rolls eyes*
In other news, I'm thinking of joining the circus.
No, really.
Until yesterday.
I want to use the garage for my own purposes (painting, practicing guitar where no one can hear or judge, etc), so I decided I might as well clear out the massive stacks of newspapers. And thus, I found myself decked out in gardening gloves, battling giant silverfish and cobwebs and being eaten alive by mosquitoes, while hauling armfuls with headlines about Bush when he was still governor of Texas. (I also could not make myself stop listening to Panic! At The Disco or Placebo, but that's neither here nor there.)
I took out the middle seat of our minivan (woot), and folded the back seat up vertical and slid it all the way forward. Then I filled the entire back with newspapers and magazines--three stacks wide, five or six stacks deep, and three feet tall. I wish I'd taken a picture, because it was seriously impressive. This afternoon, I drove the whole lot to a recycling center and unloaded it all again, and tomorrow I will proceed to clean out the garage.
Of course, my dad was pissed. No matter how many chances or warnings I gave him, he was still going to be cranky, so I'm glad I went for the fast-bandaid-ripping approach. He's been sulking ever since, yay. *rolls eyes*
In other news, I'm thinking of joining the circus.
No, really.
