Until I decided that it was about damn time I cleaned out our spider halfway-house garage.
See, my garage is filled with all of my things left over from high school and all the stockpiles of useless things I had in my room at my parent’s house, and the funny little toys I brought home from when I worked at the arcade. I was doing great, so proud of myself for resisting my packrat nature and actually throwing things away, until I came across a corner of big black garbage bags.
Inside the garbage bags were toys. Lovable, dirty old toys with dirty love-stains on their faces from the nights they spent keeping me safe on/next to/under my bed, or getting dragged through the dirt because I wanted to play “school field trip” in the woods behind our house.
I thought to myself, “These toys are dirty and old. I will never let my daughter play with them. I will never play with them. No one will buy them. I should throw them away.” But then my mind, unbidden and most certainly against my permission, called up Andy’s toys, terrified in the black garbage bag, waiting to get thrown away. Fleeing for their desperate little toy lives, and suffering humiliation, torture, and nearly horrible, fiery inferno-death, all because they just wanted to be loved and played with.
So now I, who was doing so well at getting rid of the unnecessary things taking up space in my garage, had to go to Target, buy some nice, clean Rubbermaids with no holes in them, and give my old, ratty toys a warmer and more comfortable place to live, so they wouldn’t think that they were in a garbage bag because I didn’t love them.
Now I have even less room in my garage.
Fuck you, Toy Story 3.
3 comments:
".. The funny little toys I swiped from the arcade.."
There, fixed that for you! :P
So you're still a packrat too, huh?
*gasp* I didn't swipe... most of them. I still have that huge bag of capsule toys you were going to throw away but I was all "Nooooes! I'll take them!"
Thank you Toy Story 3
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