If only I'd known about the Museum of Broken Relationships when I started this whole decluttering thing. Perhaps we -- me and the Museum of Broken Relationships, that is -- could have worked out some kind of arrangement. An arrangement that included the installation of a giant, trans-Atlantic, pneumatic tube where I could shove all the crap I collected during my last relationship.Or maybe we could just borrow the tube Michael Kors uses to pump all his clothing straight from the factory to TJ Maxx. Either way...in my imagination...my crap emerges from the other side of the tube as a meaningful story rather than the hand-wringing, misery inducing tale that it has become.
Because let's face it. I don't need a magic tube. I've got a Museum of Broken Relationships RIGHT HERE IN MY HOUSE, baby. There's a shirt in the bottom drawer of my dresser that reminds me of a horrible argument every time I see it. I have to get rid of it. Even though it cost me $250.
And the photos. What am I supposed to do with the photos? Especially from the relationships that evolved into peaceful friendships. You know. The I don't hate you/I enjoyed our vacation/but we're both happily married to other people/so what am I supposed to do with all those holiday snaps? That.
It's been all about Passive-Aggressive Anti Bad Mood Sprays this week. Trust me. But I'm nearly there. One more room and I'm finished. In the meantime,here's a three minute story from NPR about the Museum of Broken Relationships for you to listen to when you have a moment.
What did you do with your Ex's stuff?