This is going to be sorta rambly, because hello, it’s Monday, and in an uncharacteristic foray into alcoholism, I drank for thirteen straight hours on Saturday. It’s still working its hangover magic. So, with that little foreword, here we go.
The Box of Shame is not, strangely enough, a euphemism for lady parts and sexual hangups. It’s a three-and-a-half foot tall cardboard moving box that, since the day I moved in a little over a year ago, has sat in the corner of my patio collecting rainwater and general filth. Every once in a while when I thought about it, it gave me the willies, but mostly, I ignored it. Much like I do the unfinished shelving project in the living room. The wall is bowed, the shelf doesn’t work, so it sits on the floor in the corner, leaning up against the wall like a loitering teenager outside the 7-11. Making it about as useful as a teenager, too.
On Sunday, when Mom and StepBob came for lunch and museuming, Mom volunteered her husband for the job of getting rid of the Box once and for all. Because obviously, it wasn’t going to happen any other way. I have my roadblocks and in a mostly fastidious apartment, the Box of Shame (gone for good, carted off this morning with the 7AM trash collection) and the aforementioned shelving disaster are the biggest two. Okay, fine. Confession: I have a ridiculously hard time getting the garbage out, too. I vacuum under couch cushions with a kind of OCD regularity and iron my bedsheets, but I can’t manage to remove rotting filth from the white Rubbermaid trashcan in the pantry. It’s as gross as it sounds. But I like to think this makes me quirky and not a health code violation waiting to happen.
You’re so turned on right now, I can tell.
I understand this completely. I don’t know what If I think that someone else will magically take out the trash, or it will just eventually “go away” but I’m TERRIBLE at taking out the trash. And putting away my laundry, as a matter of fact, I SLEPT ON my laundry last night. nice.
Procrastination… my middle name. I don’t vacuum anywhere, or cleanup my piles of stuff. Someday I’ll be like one of those little old ladies with a small path through the house to my bed & kitchen. We do recycle the newspapers and take out the trash though. I hope you remember to change and take out the used cat litter. Kitties get picky.
haha!
I could have written this… especially the part about the trash! Except, if I had tried, it wouldn’t have been as witty and entertaining…
Good to know I’m not the only OCD gal who just can’t manage to remember to throw out the garbage.
ahahahahaha fish i love you. I go through phases of OCD with my apartment, sometimes it will be spotless and sometimes it will be a disaster.
although you can always count on the kitty litter being spotless. my cat is SUPER picky.
So… what was in the Box of Shame (if anything)?
Two very hideous accent pillows from a couch I bought. Several disposable paint trays, leaves, muck, and some other old nasty garbage.
I was wondering the same thing Don. Box of Shame surely has Stuff of Disinterest inside.
I have Stuff of Shame collecting in my dining room corner. And it’s truely shameful. Old, very short term boyfriend gave me his unused monitor and printer, days after which I promptly dumped him. Not because of the generous donation but because it just wasn’t good between us. I can’t bring myself to touch the stuff because of the overwhelming guilt I have in keeping it. Okay, it’s not so overwhelming that I haven’t been using the monitor (he did throw the old one away) but those boxes feel tainted. I wouldn’t be suprised if they’re sitting over there, judging me.
Here’s to the occasional 13-hour day of drinking. Haven’t had one of those in some time…
There seems to be a common theme/bond here. My solution? Get yourself a roommate. Ok, it’s not necessarily the best option, but mine has worked out nicely. I had to rid my apt of the box of shame so she could move in (and finally unpack that last box in the spare room). I clean the kithen to death, she vacuums like a mad woman, my other friends want to “borrow” her, she’s that good. Alas, we still struggle over the trash. But hey, 2 out of 2 ain’t bad!
I have boxes of shame. As well as garbage. I can have husband take out the trash, but there are times when I am in cleaning spree mode, and hubby is not around to take out the trash. Which forces me to take it out, because otherwise the garbage falls onto the (possibly) freshly mopped floor. Ick.
I so resemble this post. I vacuum under the couch cusions regularly– but when it comes to trash– eh, I slack off a bit.
So…13 hours, huh?!?! Good for you! I hope you had fun! (Sigh…I remember when…)
As for the trash…I use to take it out regularly because my car was park near the dumpster. Now that I park in the gated garage, my friends almost scream at me to TAKE IT OUT ALREADY!
Gotta give you credit for ironing your sheets, babe. That’s something you can’t pay me enough to consider, let alone actually DO!
Happy Monday!
Women don’t have to empty the garbage….that is what men are for. If it weren’t for my roommates boyfriend, and those random days for which I can only say I must be suffering from gender confusion, our garbage would never.ever. get emptied. It’s terrible but true.
Also. Your sheets?????!!!!!!!!!????? wow
If you had tourettes and a distinct, unexplained cabbage like odor, it’d be on and on.
I have the same box in my spare room in my apartment that’s been sitting there for the last 8 1/2 months since I moved in! I keep meaning to throw it out, but I just say, “I’ll do it tomorrow!” I’m also the same way with my garbage. My best friend said to me this weekend that now that she had taken it out for me (3 bags plus cardboard boxes) that I better keep it up and take it out more often!
West Village or Greenville?
I think renaming things helps. Maybe it wasn’t a soggy box of accent pillows, maybe it was synthetic composting station… If you leave junk around, just give it a new title so it seems like it’s supposed to be there.
Garbage and the Box of Shame are definitely blue jobs. As is barbecuing, taking out recycling, washing the car in the driveway. Pink jobs are birthday cards, all manner of gifts, booking dentist and doctors appointments. There are clearly drawn lines and that is another reason you (and I) need a bicycle.
Eeeeewwwww!!! Ha ha ha! We all have our quirks.
Whatever happened to the Scotts? (Wait. Scott? Was that the name that they both shared?) They seemed so helpful in getting you moved-in and decorated, but left you hanging with a box of shame? That’s the true definition of shame…
Totally sympathize with the trash thing. I even have one of those odor-removal things for it. I think it works; my boyfriend says I am in denial.
Totally sympathize with the trash thing. I even have one of those odor-removal things for it. I think it works; my boyfriend says I am in denial.
Just a box of shame -
wind and water -
Believe it if you need it,
if you don’t just pass it on
Sun and shower -
Wind and rain -
in and out the window
like a moth before a flame
It’s just a box of shame
I don’t know who put it there
Believe it if you need it
or leave it if you dare
But it’s just a box of shame
or a ribbon for your hair
Such a long long time to be gone
and a short time to be there
Adapted from Grateful Dead Box of Rain.
I’m glad to hear someone else does this too. I just hauled two large garbage bags from our apartment. One was smelling bad so we put it on our back porch. Nice? I don’t know why we didn’t just take it to the dump at that point. I think I was secretly waiting for my husband to jump on that duty. Wrong.
…Not only have I never ironed my sheets, but I only just now became acquainted with the concept that it was even possible. What other sorts of wrinkly squalor must I be living in??
I have lived in my apt for almost 4 years – still have boxes.
Husband has lived here for over a year – still has boxes.
The amount of apt projects we do every weekend is crazy!
Hahahaha! I totally love that I’m not the only person who can spend hours ironing the linens (I iron the tablecloths and napkins as well) yet shudders at the thought of taking the trash out. I agree with Mrs. Greg House that the removal of the garbage is a blue job. I make sure I praise my SO to no end when he does this chore–positive feedback goes a very long way.
As for the Box o’ Shame, after moving four times last year, mine apparently bred and became the Spare Room of Shame that only was dealt with around tax time.
I agree that renaming things helps.
Hey Heather, Sorry I can’t find your email address. Need advice on blogging about boyfriends. Anyway can you shoot me a message when you get a chance. Thanks!
LMFAO! Between the post and the comments I was laughing so hard my cubemate thought I had finally lost it. I pay a larger share of the rent, just because my roommate is a neat freak. I don’t have to clean the bathroom or kitchen unless I feel like it. I don’t mind vacuuming and I’m willing to do my more than my share of the dishes, but I despise taking the trash out.
I thought we were going to be screwed after her son moved out, but thankfully her boyfriend usually comes over after he work and he takes it out when he leaves for the evening without being asked. That alone made me change my mind about having him underfoot all the time. (Plus, he also puts the clean dishes away if he gets there before I get home.)