The Big Ball Pick-Up

It's another chance to ditch the stuff I hide in the shed, under beds and up the attic stairs. But first I have to walk Big Pick-up Purgatory laps, naked clutter exposed by the curb. Again.

Cars slow. Kids peruse. Walkers snicker. 

Everyone sees what. But they want to know more: when, where, and how. And for God's sake -- why.  

Sons, resident coach, re-gifters. You guess -- how did we jump from one ball in 1993 to 47 castaways in 2008?

 

I just say, "Check out Theresa's pile, what's up with those mops?"