We’re going to start putting everything – and I mean everything – into sensible plastic tubs. With lids. I’ve bought hundreds of them. All sizes. The rest are getting donated. Everything gets put in a stackable plastic tub, that’s clearly labeled. Shoes, pens, lego blocks, extra door knobs, fresh lettuce, the couch, all of it.
I’m sick of living like a dog!
I will have order. All order based on a grid! Everything in a space all its own. And when one goes missing, when one thing hasn’t been checked out according to procedure, I will know. And I will punish the fool who disrupted my order. I will break their smile.
I do this for my sanity’s well-being as well as my items’ well-being. My collection of little porcelain sleeping raccoons will have a little house that doesn’t let in fresh air but does let me see them if they come to life and start suffocating on their own.
I will see it! And so will you! We will see everything we possess and love stacked and organized and clean and trapped forever in its own toxic plastic house.
AND THEN I WILL DRIVE THIS CAR RIGHT ON THROUGH THE WALL AND STRAIGHT INTO OBLIVION IF YOU DON’T PUT DOWN THAT PHONE RIGHT NOW AND MAKE US SOME PIZZA PIES!
Will those pizza pies have onions and garlic on them, and will we need to eat them inside a giant tupperware container?