“Packing an overnight bag for tomorrow. headed to see your Aunt Margaret & sort files moved out of Papaw’s office!”

Oh, the things my mom adds exclamation points to…

Imagining my Aunt Margaret and my mother in the same room trying to sort through ANYTHING sounds hilarious. My Aunt Margaret would throw out your favorite childhood blankie if she thought you were finished crying into it. Even if you were still a child. In contrast, my mom had a hard time watching Toy Story 3 because she suspects (like the rest of us) that our toys, our beloved possessions, even our old files, probably come alive at night to talk about how much they miss us. My Aunt Margaret has a still-standing offer to go into our basement and just gut the thing. No strings attached, no input from my mother or any family member. Once she’s through, I’m guessing maybe she wants to set up a Roller-Rink down there. She’s all business, like Mike from Breaking Bad. Once she’s at your door, you know its over.

Let’s just say she has a hard time letting go of things. I wouldn’t call her a full-on hoarder…she’s too organized for that. Buuuut if you need a cardboard box of almost any reasonable size, she’s got more than just a few, if you know what I mean. She and my dad now have more free-standing shelf units in the basement than they have beers in the fridge. Well…I take that back. I left 23 Miller Lites in there when I moved out and they haven’t been TOUCHED since then. (Don’t worry, Thanksgiving is just around the corner.) Otherwise, I stand by my numbers.