Trophy Wife

I'm still shocked how much crap we have managed to stock pile and keep neatly out of sight. We embarked on the first half of the big move yesterday and completed a successful run with the movers, who, by the way, were worth every penny so far. (Check out my "What does a less stressful move cost?" post to relive my moving quote shock.)

Because we refused to buy new boxes and because the black garbage bags ran out, we ended up putting a lot of random stuff in our cars - from toilet brushes to spatulas (don't worry, I didn't put them in the same bag). We decided that we needed one car less stuffed than the other so we could drive it around to the closings and not be judged for looking like we're living in our SUV.

It turned out that my hubs' car would be the chosen one. So we were very deliberate with what we loaded into it and piled in essentials we would need for the next two days in addition to our remaining valuables. I wasn't keeping a close eye on his car as he packed it up and it wasn't until I went around the back did I see what he deemed as "valuable." There they stood... trophies and bobble heads all in their plastic, non-valuable form.

With stress running high from the move, we then proceeded to have a "healthy" discussion over whether what he chose to pack in his car was actually worth the precious cargo room. That is when I realized that I'm officially a "trophy wife;" my husband, like many men, is addicted to recognition and cheap trinkets that symbolize it.

No longer in denial, I decided to accept the trophies, and to diffuse an argument that was brewing during an already hectic day, I took this picture to document our milestone move:

And no, those aren't real glasses. Those are glasses he wore as Clark Kent for Halloween while in college, and yes, THOSE were also classified as valuable and earned a spot in the "valuables-only" car.

Oy.