As I'm sure many of you know, Jason and I have taken the very adult step of moving into my dad's basement. Every time people ask me where we are living now I feel like I am obligated to add a sheepish grin when I say we live two bedrooms down from the room that I once draped in purple and filled with beanie babies.
But the truth is, the move has been awesome. We have a house that stays the same temperature all year, a magical dishwasher, and a fatty couch that never disappoints. And all this without our dear bank account losing a cent. It has been great.
There has, however, been a downside. Throughout the years, our basement has become a receptacle for things we are too lazy/sentimental/frugal/lazy to throw away. In fact, the half of our basement that isn't finished looks like the Room of Requirement when it turns into a place for hiding things. Except there are fewer horcruxes. And sherry bottles.
So I've taken it upon myself to slowly tackle sections of the house to get rid of things like a 30 year old printer, baby-sized ski boots from before the age of plastic, and even an extra trampoline set. My cleaning sprees have gotten so furious, in fact, that I threw out my beloved American Girl Doll, Samantha -- whom they no longer make. Even though I deeply regret getting rid of Samantha (Jason even went down to D.I. the next day to see if they still had it) I don't regret all the extra space it gives us to store and access things we actually need. Imagine that!
During one of my projects today, I stumbled across a huge box that was filled with my old stuffed animals. Some of them, at least. And while I was throwing them all in the D.I. bag -- even the beanie babies with their tags intact -- I stumbled across this gem:
But if you think he is nothing more, you are sorely mistaken. Just take a look at this!
This sneaky quality of his made it zero surprise to me when I saw that something had stayed in his zipped up bowels all these years.
But the best part of the discovery was this crumpled up paper. Was it a treasure map to more beanie babies? A dirty secret that I tried to get off my chest? A darling note written to my loved ones?
In very terrible cursive, the paper reads:
"I like a positive but sensitive buff guy but he still has to be hot and a good kisser"
That's it. No particular person I was writing to, no reason for writing it, not even a period at the end of the sentence.
At first I was embarrassed that I would think this was the most important thing I could leave for all of my posterity. After all, dogbear was the best time capsule any one could ask for. But then I realized that I got everything I wanted. I bet dogbear-note-writing-me would have given current-me a big ol' high-five and even a good-game-smack-o-the-bum for landing a "positive but sensitive buff guy" who is still "hot and a good kisser."
So, dogbear-note-writing-me, this blog post goes out to you. Thank you for shaping my taste of the opposite gender at such an early age, and making sure my tastes survived the test of time.