So, my dad calls me up to tell me that a.) they’ve found a house to rent while my mom finishes up her thirty years; b.) that my birthday presents should start dribbling in at any time now; and c.) that, if I want some of their furniture to fill my house with, I’d better buy a house right now.
I apparently forgot to tell my dad that we’re not talking about this, but I said “I’ll do what I can, but I’ve got to find the money” and then he launches into this diatribe about how people working at Sonic buy houses and if they can get a house, I can get a house, and I’m all ‘yes, Dad, I know, but…” and then he’s all like “Why can’t you do this? I’m just going to sell the dining room table and chairs if you don’t have a place to put them. What’s wrong with you?” And I’m all like “I don’t know.” And he’s then “Well, maybe you can see if Mack will let you keep the table and chairs in his barn. But you know, you can’t impose on him forever. You can’t just leave your furniture in his barn while you lollygag around. B. you can’t just leave your things strewn all over the country while you try to get things together. What about the china cabinet? And the dressers? How long are they going to sit in Mack’s barn?” And I’m all “I don’t have any furniture in Mack’s barn.”
“Yet.” He says, like the future unfolds unerring before him.
Tiny Cat Pants 
Okay, in all fairness to my dad, there may be a bit of hyperbole here.
Can you ask him a question for me? The next time I lose my keys, where will they be?
Ain’t hyperbole fun? ;)
Was there a meeting of fathers pushing houses? Mine reminded me of my saving for a house fund ever-so-gently via e-mail today.
My dad’s the king of hyperbole, so if I perhaps use the tactic, I blame it on him,
Mack’s barn is a bit crowded, though that will change soon. You may impose for as long as you want, absent any lollygagging. I HATE lollygaggers.
Tell him to ship all the furniture to you, have a huge yard sale, and voila –there’s your downpayment.
Beware the “honor” of taking everyone’s old crap. You can wind up a stranger in your own house, living in someone else’s stuff and trying to make what had meaning to them meaningful to you. Just because someone thinks you (as the girl of the family and the shit-together person in your generation) needs to humping around the material remainder of your childhood and theirs, that doesn’t make it necessarily true.
Maybe this is my personal issue. I’m finding it wearying to build a life around other people’s emotionally burdensome hand-me-downs, but that’s the difference between early 30s and mid-40s maybe.
Beware the “honor” of taking everyone’s old crap
The nice thing about it is that it’s free. Other than the dining room set, one desk, a tv, and a few smaller decorating items, all of our furnishings are “everyone’s old crap.” It’s slowly changing piece by piece, but for now, you can’t beat the price.
I’m not talking about the truckload of stuff that helps you furnish your first apartment that winds up slowly getting given to others. That’s a different order of crap. I’m talking about being gifted with family “heirlooms” — on the surface, it might look like the same crap (the dinged tables, the chipped plates) but it can’t ever be passed on to someone else at the risk of grave insult to the giver. It’s meant to be a material reminder of familial identity. For people with a complicated familial relationship, these kind of presents that are accepted out of necessity when you’re younger (I mean, what the hell…it’s free…it’s kind of cool, I guess…it was my aunt Bertha’s…it would mean a lot to my parents…maybe someone else will need it…what if everything falls apart and I need that broken-down thing that’s better than nothing…) overwhelm your personal space when you’re older.
There’s a reason that nm and I think “yard sale!”
Ya know, I have a couple of chairs that used to belong to my in-laws and a bunch of things around the kitchen that were my grandmother’s. And when I sit in them/look at them/use them I think how nice they are and how nice that they came from people I care(d) about. But I was ruthless in setting the ground rules; when those respective households were being closed down, I accepted only things I truly wanted in the first place. And, B, I’m completely serious about the yard sale, or at least Craig’s List. Unless these are things you want, in which case they can sit in Mack’s barn and accumulate dead pigeons.
Mack,
Why not just have aunt B move into your barn?
She’s from hardy, midwestern stock. She’ll be fine.
Thought about that, EX, but the barn animals vetoed that plan…something about her snoring I believe…
But if she can bring the mask, she can crush any rebel alliance, which the barn animals may be trying to form.
Look out, though. She finds a lack of faith disturbing.
I want to be angry, but that’s too funny.
But, also, yeah, I am well aware of the pitfalls of being saddled with shit so that you end up with a bunch of stuff that doesn’t feel like “yours.” I would like that china cabinet, though. I think I could make good use of a second china cabinet.
I could make good use of a second china cabinet.
bridgett & nm, I think it’s too late….