Slowly packing up the house is drudging up all sorts of crap. Physical and emotional dust bunnies abound, not to mention a skeleton or two. This is typical with moving, especially for someone with hoarding tendencies like mine.
This morning I was clearing out a junk drawer and found myself debating whether to throw out an unused roll of super-sticky fly tape. Simple enough, right? Toss it, right? Then I remembered the time there was a roll of fly tape above the trash can in the alley when I dropped in my garbage bag and accidentally flipped up my elbow-length hair, successfully taking down the gluey-tape and several dead flies in one fell swoop.
And it wouldn’t come out.
And then I had to go to work.
And then my co-worker Jeannie had to rub my entire head with ice cubes because she called her mother for advice, who said, ice gets gum out of hair so it should work on fly paper, but you know what? It sure didn’t. So then Jeannie just started cutting out chunks of my hair with a razor blade envelope opener, and then that weirdo bearded guy in shipping came by and said you look like you just came out of a can, so then I had to go to the beauty salon and get ALL MY HAIR CUT OFF up to my ears, only to take some solace and said to the hairdresser, I’ll gladly donate my hair to Locks of Love, but she snapped her gum said, No Hun, those cancer kids don’t want flies in their hair either.
So now I’m standing over my junk drawer, feeling horrible just thinking about all the sick, bald headed children I denied a new wig because I got sloppy with the fly tape.
Good news: I recently learned that smothering your hair with peanut butter will remove fly tape and any other sticky substance, including hot glue. Who knew, right?
Bad news: Now that I know the peanut butter trick, how can I possibly throw out the fly tape?
This is how my mind works: Keeping the unused roll of fly tape + One Jar of Peanut butter = Doing my part to help kids with cancer. Throwing out the fly paper would be the equivalent of snubbing an ill child and would derail my path to Sainthood. The whole But-Peaches-You’re-Not-Even-Catholic-Thing will be overlooked if only I keep the fly tape. So clearly, I’m keeping the tape.
Moving is going to be awesome.