Almost a year ago we moved into a mobile home. It's very nice has 3br and 2 baths - but not a lot of storage. Keith, now known as DumbAss for the remainder of this post, decided that there wasn't enough room in our shed to store a lot of my "crap". He wanted to put it under the home. I said sure, but not the stuff in cardboard boxes. DumbAss - just heard "sure". You guessed it......everything in boxes, cardboard or plastice, went under the trailer. Now, part of this is my fault as I never go into the shed.....except for today. Innocently looking for the base to a carseat so that Tyler (aka baby, chunky monkey) can get out of the infant seat he's currently in. I notice that none of my boxes are in there......hmmm, maybe they're in the other shed. Nope, nada, nothing. Call DumbAss (he's working today) and he informs me that all my boxes of "crap" are under the home with the base to the carseat.
It took me about five minutes to get the skirting off the home to look under the home. Yes, everything is there, but ALL of the cardboard boxes are about to fall apart. DumbAss was wrong - they would not be safe from the water. I have two boxes of pictures that I hope are not completely ruined, and 3 boxes of clothes. I have yet to venture further under the home to see what else I've lost. Yes it's just "crap", but it was my crap and that crap has memories tied to it.....especially the pictures. Most of which are my oldest's baby pictures.
At least DumbAss in his infinite wisdom didn't get defensive after I called him crying, but instead told me to go buy plastic boxes and he'd help me go through all of my "crap" tonight and tomorrow if needed. Maybe he does deserve Chipolte for dinner after all.