No happy ending here, my friend
Saturday. Getting my house ready for hosting a bridal shower. What's that noise? It's the bulk trash pick-up. Already! I thought they were coming on Monday. Oh good. They are starting on the other street first. We still have time. If we don't get this old desk out there now, we will be stuck with it in our bedroom for three more months. Here, honey, help me carry it out. Dump all the drawers out, we can organize it later. Better yet, just pull the whole drawers out. Let's just get the desk out there right away. Whew! Good thing we got rid of the desk and our ugly couch.
Monday. Finally getting around to stack of paperwork to register Aaron for kindergarten. Registration form, check. Primary language survey, check. Proof of residence, check. Emergency card, check. Screening for possible handicapping condition, check. Referral for assessment of special health care services, check. Health history, check. Documentation for varicella, check. Immunization record. Put the papers down. Go into bedroom to get Aaron's shot record. Look on floor for long, skinny middle drawer. Not there. Immediate panic. We didn't pull out the top, middle drawer of our old junky desk! Crapcrapcrapcrapcrap. It's all gone. All of our life papers. Pulverized at the dump. Social security cards. Marriage certificate. Sealing certificate. Birth certificates. Five passports with our kids' first international stamps. No, 6--the expired one Steve took on his mission. Immunization records. Three diplomas. Arizona Bar Association certificate. More, probably. More that I don't remember.
I am grieving. I am such an idiot.
Monday. Finally getting around to stack of paperwork to register Aaron for kindergarten. Registration form, check. Primary language survey, check. Proof of residence, check. Emergency card, check. Screening for possible handicapping condition, check. Referral for assessment of special health care services, check. Health history, check. Documentation for varicella, check. Immunization record. Put the papers down. Go into bedroom to get Aaron's shot record. Look on floor for long, skinny middle drawer. Not there. Immediate panic. We didn't pull out the top, middle drawer of our old junky desk! Crapcrapcrapcrapcrap. It's all gone. All of our life papers. Pulverized at the dump. Social security cards. Marriage certificate. Sealing certificate. Birth certificates. Five passports with our kids' first international stamps. No, 6--the expired one Steve took on his mission. Immunization records. Three diplomas. Arizona Bar Association certificate. More, probably. More that I don't remember.
I am grieving. I am such an idiot.
Comments
Into the dumpster, Family Craig!