September 6, 2007
Those are my keys. I know, they're huge. My key ring is made up of thirteen keys, five key rings and eight rewards cards. I love every single item.
Jared wants me to scale back, but I'm completely unwilling. You see, I'm sentimental, I like to keep my keys, because every key is a memory.
For example, I have a copy of the key to my friend's XTerra. She traded it in several months ago. It was a nice car, and that's a memory that I'm not ready to part with.
One time, when I brought homemade soup to an elderly woman from church, I used her house key to let myself in. That was a really nice thing I did. So there ya have it, another memory that I'm not yet willing to part with.
Of course I have a copy of the key to my parent's back door in Connecticut and their beach house in Massachusetts. I'd hate to be left out in the cold if I ever pop in for an impromptu visit from Texas.
And the beer bottle opener? I can't for the life of me remember where that one's from, but I'm sure it was great, so I'm not ready to let it go.
Maybe my sentimentality seems strange to you, it certainly does to Jared--we're total and complete opposites on this matter. You should watch us clean out a closet together, it's awesome.
Jared's like, "Hey Amy...you don't want to keep your high school yearbook do you? Oh, c'mon, you don't need it...you never even talk to these people anymore!"
And I'm all, "Oh Jared, don't throw out my Precious Moments graduation figurine! That's very special to me. I know, I know, I hate Precious Moments figurines, but my old lady neighbor gave it to me, and that means everything."
Finally, after years of butting heads, we've come up with a system--we are each allowed to keep one Rubbermaid container filled with sentimental stuff, no questions asked, no eyes rolled.
Jared's container is almost completely empty. It contains his "Elder Lawson" tag from his mission, a Pedro Martinez baseball card, and one very redneckish crystal etching of our faces that he treated himself to on our honeymoon (?).
My container, on the other hand, is busting at the seems. The cover sits about twelve inches above the box since there are so many valuable treasures contained within. It's filled with everything from useless computer wires to ticket stubs, to James's unused newborn diapers. Big time stuff....big time stuff.
I do have one item, a collection of sorts, that Jared has yet to learn of. It's tucked away for safe keeping in my parent's attic, and it has been for years--it's my cup collection. No, they're not pewter cups, and they're not interesting mugs either. They're--get ready for this--Dixie Cups! The mini ones that go in bathrooms.
Isn't that awesome?!
As you might guess, I was sentimental as a child, too. I could never bear to part with my cup after a really good gargle, so instead of tossing it in the trash, I'd add it to the existing stack in my closet. As a result I have a seven-ish foot tall collection of Dixie Cups just waiting for their mama to come home.
Well, I'm coming little cuppies! I'm coming to getcha! And when I do, you can bet your cardboard keister than I'm gonna find a way to fit each and every one of you in my box. You're all that special!