Okay, so I go out to the garage to start going through some of my scrapbooking stuff so I can take some pics of what I've been working on the couple months before we moved and post them for you all to see. And, I find the whole "tower" of scrapbooking boxes toppled over onto the garage floor. And I start bawling... Uncontrollably.
My husband tries to assure me he will pick them up and that the stuff is fine. But I can't stop sobbing... that my stuff is ruined, that he shouldn't have put all my stuff in one stack while all his was in "safe" small stacks, that there is no room for my scrap stuff in this house. And then I go off on some unintelligible rant about him picking the house and me hating it and blah blah blah. This went on for about twenty minutes, with him trying to console and assure me everything was fine.
Wow. I think I was upset about a little more than just the scrap stuff. I usually have myself together a little more than that! I'm going to chalk it up to the stress of moving half-way across the county, and to the stress of change in general. I guess the good part is he is now building me shelves and a scrap area on one end of the utility room. That wasn't my intent, but a good consequence I suppose.
