This...is going to be tricky
I just returned from an overnight trip to visit my out-of-town family. Mrs. Jerkwater did not accompany me, as she was stuck at work.
Before I left for home, my mother suggested that I help her rearrange the goods in her storage unit. Hardly a surprise, as every visit I make includes some variation on the moving of furniture. As I carried the heavy stuff and wheeled around dollies laden with goods, my mother asked if I would take with me my old comic collection, thereby freeing up space in the unit.
When I moved away, I had left my collection behind. Living in apartments didn't allow me to take them. But with the recent purchase of Jerkwater Estates, I now have room. In part to accommodate my mother’s wishes, but largely because my inner geek nearly went into cardiac arrest at the thought of regaining my old collection (from 1984 to the mid-nineties) and being able to re-read many lost treasures.
Here’s the tough part.
Jerkwater Estates is a good-sized dwelling, but it lacks either basement or attic. Storage is, simply, a pain. The four longboxes that comprise my post-1996 comic collection now sit in my office and pretend to be a cubic “table” of sorts. (The rest of the office is filled with bookshelves and my workstation, so I can’t make that much bigger.) And Mrs. Jerkwater is already displeased with those few ugly-ass longboxes being in plain sight.
Yesterday I smuggled into the house the Old Collection before she came home from work. Fourteen longboxes. Yes, fourteen. I stacked them in three rows, five high, in the rumpus room. She hasn’t noticed them yet.
I can foresee the look on her face when she encounters the three foot-by-five foot wood pulp mass in the corner. Her face will reveal a mingling of horror and a fervent wish that I collected stamps instead. She’ll try not to freak out too openly, knowing how much I love the dumb things, but I suspect her urge to keep a calm front will not succeed.
The phrase “holy crap” will, in all likelihood, be uttered at least six times within the first three minutes after discovery. Even to me, the sight of all those boxes is astonishing.
She’s a wonderful woman and accepts my mighty geek-osity, but she’s also fond of decorating and keeping a presentable house. Eighteen longboxes represent a decorating challenge the likes of which make even a strong man shudder.
Maybe if I throw a decorative blanket over them and proclaim it to be provocative sculpture?