Toy Traitor

Because Keven is in Florida, I found very little inspiration to stay up past 10:30 last night. I watched a recorded episode of "House," watched Hailey get booted off "Idol," finished replotting the first half of RWS, and suddenly found myself without purpose. Last summer, with Keven gone all the time, I developed a new rhythm for my evenings, mostly writing for hours at a time. But last night... nope.

The upshot of this early bedtime? My eyes popped open at 7am. Fully rested. Amazing! I'll have to try that again sometime.

Yesterday, I set about pretending that we will move from this apartment in the next two months, which is true. We live amongst clutter, and I needed to make a go of sorting the trash from the treasure. To that end, I put on a series of videos for the girls and occupied them with a book of stickers, all the while making their room surreptitiously off limits.

I remember when my mom would hit our rooms with determination and a giant plastic garbage sack. The horror! Every toy she sorted for a garage sale or tossed away suddenly became the best toy in the whole entire known world. That I remember any of this means she either a) got sloppy with her distractions or b) thought we were old enough to handle a culling in plain sight. Not so!

Now the turn is mine. I have become a toy traitor, a grown-up with no regard for the inner lives of the toys I mercilessly judge. I kept thinking about the mom in Toy Story II who inadvertently sets the whole plot in motion by taking toys out to the garage sale. Tom Hanks' character, Woody, stages a rescue.

Alas, there would be no rescue for these poor guys. I quickly shuffled out the door, just me and three opaque white garbage bags heading for the dumpster. Nothing to see here! I stashed another two bags of toys in my closet, awaiting a moment when I can take them down to storage -- probably tonight, once the girls are asleep. I feel covert and secretive, like an Area 51 operation.

I also discovered at least two bags of clothes good enough to resell and another three for Goodwill. I would have saved those for friends of mine, but they're all busy making baby boys. You will not need our outgrown tutus, most likely.

So after sorting and cleaning and organizing, I found a ton of square footage in the closet. Figuring that the girls would notice some of the missing items, I changed the locations of their various boxes and storage containers. The mix up should confuse them enough to surmount the next few days, when the probability of discovering my shady deeds will be highest. I also hung new posters on the walls, which has received far more notice than the suspicious spaces in the closets.

No comments: