Our church is having “the world’s largest garage sale” this weekend and we’ve had piles accumulating for the past month or so. I went through all the clothes I’ve had in storage for the last three years and ended up with ten bag (TEN BAGS!) of clothes and shoes to donate.
A lot of it was pretty old — I’ve been more or less the same size since high school and I sometimes have a hard time letting go of things. (Just tangible things. I really don’t hold grudges. Most of the time.) Anyways, I filled up the bags about three weeks ago and since then they’ve made a nice little frame around my dad’s desk.
Wednesday he loaded everything into the refrigerator and hauled it off to the church. When I got home my mom pointed out that I should probably check that he only brought the things I’d set out for him. You see, my dad gets a little… enthusiastic… and has been known to go above and beyond whatever the situation calls for.
I clomped downstairs, did a quick inventory of my belongings, and determined he had, in fact, only taken what I’d asked him to. (Good job!) I went into the den to thank him and noticed something missing.
“Where’s the couch?” I asked.
He looked up from his game of mah jong and shrugged. “No one told me not to take it.”
I looked at him for a moment, not sure what to say, and decided that saying nothing was probably the best option. I backed slowly out of the room and into the living room, where my mom sat on the with an odd look on her face.
“What happened to the couch?” I asked.
She just shook her head, mumbled about a list neither of us recalls seeing, and sighed.
One good thing came from all this. Look what he left beneath my light switch!