Opposites Can't Pack

Eric and I, in many ways, are the definition of opposites attract.  While I'm fiery and short-tempered, Eric is stalwart and calm.  I rush into things, while Eric likes to mull decisions over for a while.  I never make the bed. Eric always makes the bed.  (Why does this make me sound like a hot mess?  Hmmm.)   

Therefore, it's no surprise, that when it comes to moving, we are once again at odds.  

In a week we'll be heading off for a lovely vacation with Eric's family.  The day after we get back to Massachusetts, we close on our house!  (Squeal! Eeek!)  So, we've got about a week left to pack all our worldly belongings before the madness begins.  

While packing certainly isn't fun, I look at it as an opportunity to cleanse and organize.  I love getting rid of stuff that's been sitting in my closet untouched for years.  I enjoy knowing that all old movie stubs are trashed, all my old winter coats are donated, and my filled-up notebooks have been recycled.  

Eric, while very organized, has a hard time letting go of old stuff.  He doesn't want to trash the old board games, ticket stubs, or Pez dispensers.  It doesn't matter that we haven't played Risk once in the five years we've been together, we might someday.  (Apparently when Madeline grows up because Eric just informed me that you need three people to play Risk.)   And the five giant boxes of CD's?  Madeline might want those someday too.  Yes, Eric, someday Madeline will be just dying to listen to the collected works of David Holsinger.  (Whoever that is...)  

Most of the time I totally get why he wants to keep sentimental items.  Old letters.  Sure.  Keep them. Other times?  It drives me bat ass crazy.  For example, he just packed four mugs filled with old change, paperclips and movie-ticket stubs.  He didn't even attempt to look through the junk, he just threw them in a box, junk and all. "That's where they go, Summer," he informed me.  Bananas.  

On the other hand, I have sometimes thrown away things I shouldn't have and regretted it later.  In middle school I wanted to be a writer.  I had notebook upon notebook of "novels" I had written.  Literally hundreds of pages. (Think Stephanie Meyers meets Jane Austen as a thirteen-year-old girl.) But after they sat there untouched for years, I threw them away in a rash cleaning spree.  As humiliating as it would be to read over those masterpieces now, I really wish I still had them.  

So in reality, it's a good thing that Eric and I are opposites.  Just yesterday, he prevented me from tossing an old Beatles eraser as well as my graduation cap tassel.  He's right.  I would have regretted losing those things.  

Besides, sometimes some of things he saves are sweet.  Like an old note written on a napkin featuring  a hand turkey I had written him years ago.   

Meanwhile, I finally convinced him to get rid of some of the old college T shirts he had piled up under our bed.  (He just made some hipster's day donating those things, P.S.)  He also threw out the ten pounds of mardi gras beads he had hanging in the closet.  Don't worry, Eric doesn't flash people drunkingly in exchange for cheap plastic beads...it was a band thing.  At least that's what he tells me...I have my suspicions.  

Next step: convincing him that we don't need to display bobble head dolls and a Simpson's poster in our bedroom....    

Did I mention where our baseball loyalties lie?