I am pretty much done with the house purging, and while I don’t normally give a damn about such things, its been quite an adventure.

I’ve learned:

I’m not a pack rat. The former owners of this house are, and The Husband is. Me, I over-purge, and will probably miss at least 3 of those 7 purses I just got rid of. I’m also a Virgo, so if something doesn’t meet my extremely high expectations, it goes away. This goes for all nouns (people, places and things) and may explain why I refuse to ever return to New Orleans again. Its not good enough.

The Husband, even in his pack-rattery,  isn’t hiding a damn thing from me. I went all through his office, his stuff in The Bedroom and there was nothing. I’m a little bummed that there wasn’t even a caricature of me burning in effigy. Nope, nothing. Sigh.

I’m about to haul a minivan load of cack to our local Abused Women’s Shelter, which makes me so unbelievably giddy, I don’t know what to do. Its not all crap, but some is… the rest is stuff like brand new baby gates, a TV, a large computer monitor, clothing out the ass… and some woman who is starting her life over is going to need all of that stuff, or the shelter will. The point is, that it will all be used, and I am a little misty at being able to give it to such a worthy place. I hope, within a year, to volunteer there, as well.

Hooray for me, hooray for the women strong enough to break that cycle and start their lives anew. Have a great weekend, my friends.