I Hate Puzzles

Okay, so it's the night before you return home from your Spring Break shopping extravaganza and you begin to survey the spoils of the trip. And you see that it is good. Very good.

You are pleased that you finally decided to buy that frame from Ikea.

And you're thrilled with the foldable(?) Barbie house you found at Thrift Town.

And your new owl. The cutest little owl. But will it live indoors or outdoors? That is the biggest question on your mind.

Until the fear sets in. Because you must find a way to make all this material goodness fit into your car. Your compact car. And don't forget about your luggage! And you think about how much you dislike jigsaw puzzles, because that's really all this is. And you wish for an SUV yet again.

Especially when your trunk already looks like this. Always. It's okay, just take a deep breath.

First, you must empty it all out. And then you ought to borrow a Dustbuster to finally suck up the broken ornaments that have been in the car since last year.

Then you lay down your oversized dog crate, golf umbrella, random decorative twigs (that have been in the trunk since moving out of your last office - 9 months ago!), and your What-A-Chair.

Why, yes, I did indeed say What-A-Chair.

Next, you add your Ikea goodies (black baroque frame and Calypso light fixtures) and the stroller you borrowed for "Baby Lilly" (the baby alter ego of your foster daughter).

Then you just start cramming in everything else and hope it all fits. Games, an Ikea poster, a throw you've been meaning to return to TJ Maxx since before Christmas, a lamp from Home Goods, and your Christmas tree hat. Because you never know just when it might come in handy.

When it doesn't fit and you finally come to grips with this realization, you stuff what's left into the front seat and hope to heck that the kid and the two dogs will travel nicely together in the back seat. And that you're tall enough to see over the mound and into your side mirrors. And then you promise yourself that you won't stop at the outlet mall on the way home. But if you do give into temptation, you promise to limit yourself to just two bags. Three max. You can probably squish it all in there. Probably.

Once home, you schlep all of it all onto your living room floor and hope the decorating fairy (aka "Mom") comes to visit soon! Then you sleep. Or drink. Or both.