I Don’t Have a Really Good Excuse for Not Owning a Globe

I was watching TV the other day, and it’s a toss up as to whether it was Dancing with the Stars or Hoarders. I despise both of those shows, but they aren’t so bad that I will actually use calories to get up and get the remote if they come on. My husband was working on something silently at the kitchen counter.

HIM: Where do we keep our globe?

ME: Did you try the garage?

HIM: Why would it be in the garage?

ME: That’s where we keep really, really big stuff.

HIM: Globes aren’t big.

ME: Of course they are. They are the whole planet.

HIM: It’s not in there.

ME: Where else have you looked?

HIM: Nowhere. I just wanted you to tell me where it is so I don’t have to look for it.

ME: I know. And THAT is why I suggested you look in the garage. We don’t actually have a globe.

HIM: Are you sure?

ME: Let me think about it.

HIM: You’re being mean again, aren’t you?

ME: Yup.

HIM: Do we seriously not own a globe? That just blows my mind.

ME: THAT is what’s going to keep you awake tonight? Our lack of globe ownership?

HIM: We just seem like globe people.

ME: Well, sorry. We’re four-foot-by-six-foot-wall-map people. It’s been hanging in the hallway for eight years.

HIM: I can’t use a map. It doesn’t tell you how far apart the countries are.

ME: When did that happen?

HIM: What?

ME: When did the cartographers of the world get together and decide that maps should be completely pointless? OF COURSE they tell you how far apart the countries are! Use the little scale at the bottom.

HIM: That little line? It doesn’t mean anything. It’s just decorative.

ME: So, are the words, “One inch equals one hundred miles,” also decorative?

HIM: That’s real? An inch really is one hundred miles on this map?

ME: Remember how I’m so bad at math that I’m not even allowed to write in the checkbook? How is it that I knew this, and you didn’t?

HIM: Why would you expect me to know that stuff? I’ve never used a map.

ME: So, Magellan, how was the life growing up carrying a globe around on the front seat of the car?

It’s great when I finally get to pretend to be the smart one, so I kept that conversation going a lot longer than I should have, and way past the point of being funny.

UPDATE: I remember what I was watching on TV now. It was Storage Wars, which I only know because I kid you not, one of the auctioned storage units had a globe! It was like falling through a time portal, or something.

 

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THERE’S An Episode of Hoarders I Would Pay To Watch

We’ve already established that I’m a bad person and no one should ever be forced to talk to me because I’m going to ramble on about how you should eat your own limbs in a desperate survival situation (see previous blog post). I can’t help it and I don’t mean to be horrible, but literally EVERYTHING is funny to me.

EXAMPLE: I wasn’t in a giant hurry to start writing yesterday, so I stalled by sitting down with my twelve-year-old to watch a movie after I got home from work. We were enjoying a rather funny film about some girls who intentionally stop a wedding by worming their way in as bridesmaids and sabotage everything like a bridal inside job. At one point during the movie, the defeated would-be saboteurs commiserate their failure thus far by opening a bottle of wine and plotting their next move. Only I didn’t see the rest of that part.

Instead, I jumped up, suddenly excited like a poodle on crack, began rooting through the really high cabinets, and screamed, “Oh my gosh! I have that exact cork screw and I never knew how it worked! Rewind that part so I can watch her open that bottle again!” My daughter sat traumatized as I pressed my nose against the screen, trying to learn from a kids’ movie how to open wine with the expensive new-age cork screw I’d received years ago.

So I’m a bad person AND an iffy mom.

We did eventually watch the rest of the movie, and we were too lazy to do the TiVo magic thing through the commercials because it would have involved reaching for the remote and I had already spent all of my energy practicing opening all the bottles of wine in the house (you see where this is going). But then the best commercial EVER came on and I was suddenly back to crack-poodle status.

It was a commercial for an upcoming episode of Hoarders where the crazy lady’s son just goes nuts and starts breaking stuff. I absolutely cannot wait for that episode.

I know, don’t even think about leaving ugly comments because I already know. I’m a horrible person. Hoarding is apparently a very serious and upsetting mental illness (even though Americans seem to be some of the only people on Earth who can catch it or afford it) and there’s nothing funny about smashing all of their carefully hoarded stuff. But am I seriously the only person who thinks every episode could be about forty-five minutes shorter if they would just take the camera crew through the house, show us how bad it is in there, then torch the whole structure with the crap inside? This lady’s son was just doing what we’re all thinking.

They had gotten to that part in EVERY EPISODE where they start to clear it out piece by piece, doily by doily, creepy yard sale doll by creepy yard sale doll, when eventually it gets to be too overwhelming for the hoarder and she starts to freak out over the loss of each used cough drop wrapper. She started to reclaim her stuff and cry. Well, this lady’s son was having none of it. He started smashing her crap every time she reached to put something back in the house. At one point he even threw something down, yelled at her, and said, “Well NOW you can’t have it!”

I know, I’m horrible, he was abusive, I get it. So just don’t look at me while I laugh. I’m truly ashamed. No, really, I am, I mean it! And I do understand her pain, since I am at this very moment hoarding eight open bottles of wine.