Crap Crap and MORE Craaaaaaap

It really should be illegal for two adults to have this much CRAAAP in their upstairs closets and attic. 
It's shameful is what it is.
Dropped The Toddler at daycare this morning, made the mad dash back towards home to meet The Realtor at 9am to check out one of the houses that we are stalking.
By the way, the Rent to Own house is still for Rent. 
But we were looking at another house.
I'll call her Francesca.  It's a pretty name for a pretty old lady of a house.
White two story colonial.  Dressed to the hilt in very nice (The Husband did not like it) wallpaper in the foyer and featuring lovely hardwood floors, two car garage, a backyard and gardens that had been maintained lovingly by someone who loved Irises and Lillies and Perennials. 
She featured a stunning cut crystal chandelier in the hallway, that led to the world's smallest kitchen.  Francesca liked to garden, not cook apparently.
Big living rooms, good sized upstairs bedrooms. 
Tiled bathrooms.
Nice sized home.
The Husband is not a fan.
Won't look past the wallpaper (which by the way, is really really pretty), or the fact that we need to upgrade the windows and the heatpump.
He wont' budge because the kitchen is TINY.
Really tiny.
Like I am still trying to figure out how to get a refrigerator in there...that kind of tiny.
But I would do it...because I think Francesca is pretty.
And The Realtor liked her too.
The Husband is not a fan, because it isn't shiny and new.
After seeing Francesca, we ventured around the corner to the Party Girl house.
Party Girl was a nice Rancher, with a full on full tilt Party Basement.  Which The Huband loved.  I am still trying to figure out the half assed upgrades upstairs with the grey cabinet doors in the kitchen, the weird semi granite/not really granite coutertops, the weird tile that didn't match ANYTHING, the half assed painted paneling in the den, and the cracks in the ceiling.  Oh yeah.  The Master Bath was super small.  The bedrooms were small.  The guest bath WAS HUGE.  Huh?
Then finding the laundry room required a freaking trail of breadcrumbs.  We'd missed it during the initial tour.
Where oh where is the laundry room?
Down the stairs to the basement, across the party room, past the half assed bar that was a cross between a bar at a Scottish pub, a flea market find, and a bar at some dive at the beach.  I just can't describe it.  Keep around the back of the bar, past the furnace, keep going, down the dark hallway, around another corner...whoops, those are water heaters (yes, I said HEATERS), keep going, and then there was the laundry.
What the Hell?!
You needed a passport to go do laundry.
The Realtor was not amused at the 'upgrades' and thought the house was way overpriced.
So we left Party Girl, drove back by Francesca as I looked lovingly on her trimmed hedges, and then home, to strip the upstairs closets.
In our defense, we have not cleaned out our closets since the year before The Toddler was born.  So pretty much almost five years.
We've crammed and jostled everything in them to 'hide' them when company was coming.
There is just STUFF in there.
So we dragged it out, and down the stairs, and out in the storage building.
And I am holding the BIGGEST YARD SALE ever next weekend.
There are maternity clothes, baby gear, weird hunting stuff, seat covers, pillows, comforters, sheets sheets sheets and more sheets.  Why do I have all of these sheets?  There are two beds in the house, and one is a queen and one is a full.  No need to have ten sets of freaking sheets!
And maxi pads.
Swear.
Every purse, duffel bag, shopping bag, canvas bag, I opened...it contained maxi pads, panti-liners, or tampons, or all three.
Apparently, I have a stash against the Revolution.
I will be able to barter with my Feminine Hygiene Hidden Stockpile.
For anything...
It's crazy.
There was even one in my briefcase.
Animatronic toys: You know the ones that sing, and dance, and are obnoxious after about five seconds.
I have an ENTIRE box full of those that I am going to put a sticker on the box that says '$5 covers all!'  And the grandparents of The Toddler can suck it.  We have a horse that sings Jingle Bells, a weird bear, a white bear that has a palsy when it sings, a duck, a chicken, a rabbit that does something and also looses a lot of fuzz...and on and on and on.  They have to go.
I was impressed by the minimum amount of trash we pulled out of there.  I do have some sorting and shredding to do, but most everything is sellable or giveable.
So bring them on!
I'll make ya a deal...$1 a bag, go for it!  Nickel of that onesie...it's yours!  Five dollars for the Barry Manilow CD collection...you got a steal!
WOW...I think the house lifted three feet off its foundation when we unloaded this trove of treasure.
Now to find my masking tape and sharpie!