A big part of my life since I moved back in with my ailing, infirm father is attempting to subdue/organize/donate to charity all of the MOUNDS of crap that have accumulated in the house for the past few decades we have lived here, without him noticing. It is an epic amount of crap, and I say crap in its truest non-scatological sense: this is stuff that ought to be discarded or given to someone else, that serves no purpose whatsoever for anyone who lives here. Right now I am living in the "Kids' Room", which David and I shared until I got boobs and he started asking embarrassing questions (remember, we are seven years apart), then it was my room only, then David's room only when I moved to the attic, then it was shared by Carlos and David, then it belonged only to Carlos. Now it is mine, and due to its many past occupants, it is filled to the brim with Kid Stuff. In the course of my subtle attempts to organize and clean this room I am currently residing in, I have been able to get rid of lots of things without my dad noticing. HIS NOT NOTICING is vital to the plan because if he sees me carting any bags or boxes out the door to take to DI, he will inevitably go through said containers and insist that the McDonald's toys/games with vital pieces missing/clothes that fit no one are somehow ESSENTIAL TO OUR LIVES AND CANNOT BE THROWN OUT.
I love my dad, for the record. But this drives me INSANE.
I have (please do not tell my father this) been able to stealthily eliminate over ten boxes of useless junk to DI while my dad was at work, asleep or otherwise away. It makes me feel like a superhero, and I've got big plans for the rest of the house, so watch out.
One reward of going through boxes that haven't seen the light of day in years is that you can find cool stuff. Some of it is cool enough to keep or donate to a really specific cause (like my boxes of Japanese children's books that I saved when I thought I would one day want to teach my children Japanese) but most of it I am comfortable smiling at nostalgically and then unceremoniously KICKING IT TO THE CURB. Literally.
Then again, sometimes I find stuff that is SO TOTALLY WICKED that I want to share it with the world.
Like the Halloween Box, AKA the Box of Awesome.
I assume every family had a Halloween box--a box of costume pieces left over from weird school projects and the costumes of former years. Because I am the eldest and the only girl, most of the costumes in the Halloween Box are kinda boy-centric. Some of this stuff, I seriously have no idea where it came from.
Below is a short video I just made in tribute to the Halloween Box. Stay tuned for the entire minute and twelve seconds because the last costume is FOR SURE the most terrifying.
Now I am going to take that box to the DI, where it can bring joy/terror to more children, Brave Little Toaster style.
Oh, and the music is "Satan's Bed" by Pearl Jam.