For Sean and AD, parting is not sweet sorrow, but unthinkable agony. Neither one of them can part with any thing – not a scrap of paper, not a shirt that no longer fits, not a broken McDonalds toy.
If at any point in time, either of them laid hands upon an object, it now has sentimental value and must be kept forever. I, on the other hand, would throw away my wedding photos if I thought they were taking up too much space. I am ruthless.
This is sometimes a problem, for me, because for one thing I’m out numbered — that’s two pack rats to one normal person. The other thing is that a lot of stuff finds its way into our house and the house is just so big and at some point, some stuff has just got to go or there will be no room for my wedding photos.
The telltale sign that AD is out of town is the mountain of trash at the curb. It’s the only time I can throw something away. If he’s here, he’ll follow me out to the curb and sift through the bags and pull stuff out and try to sneak it back into the garage. And then we end up chasing each other up and down the driveway playing keep away with the trash.
And we wonder why we don’t get invited to parties.
In the end, we have to have one of those “discussions” where one of the parties, the one who went to college on a debate scholarship, uses jurisprudence skills and other unfair tactics to defend the merits of keeping a “perfectly good” three-legged table with two busted legs. Then, the other party, the normal one, gives up in a fit of exasperation and says something like, “Fine! Keep your stupid three-legged table with the two busted legs. Now get outta my way before I bust the third leg over your head.” And then that party (the normal one) stomps back up the driveway.
Now the upside to being married to a person who makes deep and abiding attachments, is the deep and abiding attachment part — he really believes in forever and is not shaken by threats of minor violence and stomping off, but merely amused.