I am married to a cheap man. This isn’t a mean or cruel statement. It is simply a statement of fact. And, I might add that if you know me, you know how I enjoy finer things. Therefore, it is probably a good thing that he is cheap. It keeps me in check.
But cheap translates to some as frugal. And frugal translates to savings. And savings – in my book – translates to clutter.
You see, he saves, but he does not know how to organize. That’s where I come in. Usually once or twice a year I go on a rampage in the garage. In the beginning this was very hard for him. When I forced him to get rid of 20 plus empty kitty litter jugs (five years after the cat had died) he openly and loudly protested. Of course, you know the pain involved when I insisted the Spongebob costume he created for himself one Halloween had to go. It was life sized. It was awesome that Halloween. But Halloween was over, folks. Let us also not forget the cast iron skillet that he could not live without. This one was forced into a “One Year Use Clause” whereby if he did not use it in one year, he would kick it to the curb. He even proudly hung it on its own special hook where it sat. For a full year. Unused.
He claims he keeps things because he knows he’ll find another use for them. The extra wood from the deck – yes – I will agree. Enough PVC piping to plumb a small village – perhaps. But many of you know what happened with the old, one wheeled, gas grill. Anything on fire behind the family pool is NOT going to be a safe way to heat the pool for the children. Seriously.
And the “Frankentoys” also known as “Angela’s Dead Curling Iron meets Tickle Me Elmo.” No good can come from that.
Today’s expedition to the cave was not a disappointment. Within moments of pulling items out of the back corner, I realized he not only saved PVC piping, he also likes to save metal rods and old golf clubs. I figure if the head of the club is gone and the club is bent beyond recognition, it’s safe to let it go to the trash or the recycle bin. He honestly couldn’t part with it. WHY?
I really think there’s something to be said about the way a person thinks when they can’t see themselves throwing this item away. How many people are ever unsure about what else this item could be used as? 
Evidently his son found a great way to recycle it.
Evidently his son found a great way to recycle it.
Eventually, I found my way over to the Frankendoll Station. Things become a little more frightening over here. 
Poor Fairytopia – I don’t know how it even got out here, but hopefully Woody and Buzz will figure out a way how to rescue it from Sid’s house . Especially since I see the remains of Twister may be involved. Shut up popcorn bowl. No one cares about you.
A glance slightly to the other side of the filthy countertop proves more than frightening. It’s downright disturbing. I don’t know what it is or why we own one, but it seems more than menacing and quite possibly illegal.
The final item that captured my attention could never be described using words. Only a picture could tell you even the basics about it. But even still, you’re not going to know what the hell it is. Nope. Because people don’t have things like these in their garages.
Completely baffled, I foolishly asked him what it was. He said “Oh, you’re going to like this. It even works!!!” 
And with that, I was given a demonstration of my husband with a semi-electrical paper-mache helmet on his head…and it did indeed work. It was fully lit up on the inside. Thank PJ it worked. It would have been a dismal failure if it hadn’t, don’t you think?
