September 2, 2009

I'm being a clutter-bitch.

Here is a conversation I had with Keene last night:

Him: do we have any goose-neck lamps?

Me: Kayden does.

Him: but do WE have any?

Me: No, why?

Him: I have one in my car. I brought it home from work.

Me: Why?

Him: To put by our bed or something.

Me: But why?

Him: For when we read in bed?

Me: We use book lights and flashlights for that.

Him: But we could use that instead.

Me: ::gestures around living room, where there are three lamps on the floor, not being used:: We already have enough lamps.


I think I made him grumpy. But seriously. Dude has a problem with bringing home junk, just because it's free. We don't even have a bedside table to put a lamp on. We don't *need* a lamp at all. We have two desktop lamps not being used.

I hate having to mother him. But if I don't, he just keeps bringing home more shit. Like last month when he brought home a big CD player. Um, why? We don't need it. The kids each have one and we either use the record player or our computers.

Oh. OH. He has a drill press. A huge, industrial-sized drill press that he took from his old company when they closed. Apparently it's been in his friend's garage this whole time because his friend has been borrowing it. But now the friend is getting a divorce and his wife asked Keene to come and get it.

Why does he need a drill press? His reasoning is that he wants all this shit for when he has a garage and he'll be able to "play" with it. And to buy this stuff when he DOES get a garage will cost hundreds or thousands of dollars.

I said when he talks like that, it makes me never want to live in a house (with a garage) with him. It'll get out of hand, I know it.

I will cry. Seriously. I will cry if there is going to be a huge, oily machine in my living room.

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