We were cleaning out and packing our CDs. For those of you born after 1990, CDs are thin rounds of plastic, kind of like the records you collect, but much smaller. They play music similarly, but on a different device.
A note of context for those who do not know my husband: Randy is a sentimental guy. There are not many downsides to being married to a sensitive guy. But one is the tendency toward pack ratting, hording things with meaning.
And so begins the dialogue as we are packing CDs for our move.
Andrea: George Michael? We can get rid of this.
Randy: No! We keep it!
A: Are you serious? It’s mine. I’m pitching it.
R: No keeping.
A: Put it in and tell me we should keep it.
(Puts it in the CD player.)
R: I’m getting rid of this Smashing Pumpkins.
R: The dumb one. Not the other one.
A: Yeah. That was seminal for me. What’s it called? It was college.
R: I know. I was there. Oh! The Bo Deans!
A: Why? Oh are they Canadian or something?
R: No! They’re from Milwaukee.
A: No Portishead or Bach leaves this house. Are we really going to listen to all this big band music?
R: Keep it. There’s a Black Crows CD in the kitchen. Can I get rid of that?
(Pause while I compute Black Crows instead of Black Keys.)
A: That’s not mine.
R: It’s not mine. It’s yours.
R: Yeah, your old boyfriend gave it to you. What was his name? Patrick?
A: Noooooo! Pat was the world music guy! He’d neeeever listen to this crap. Give away pile!
R: Etta James?
A: Keep. Hole. (Laughing.) We can get rid of this.
R: No! We’re keeping that.
A: Seriously? Like you’re ever gonna say “I want to listen to Hole now.”
R: No. This Norwegian writer I am reading alludes to these 90s bands in his novel. It makes me want to listen to them. Garbage too.
A: OK, but this George Michael sucks. He’s like a lounge singer. Can we give it away?
(Meanwhile Robin is dancing to it.)
R: Siamese Dream! That’s it! Here it is. And Jane’s Addiction too.
A: Ahhhh, college.
Robin: We need to buy more food guys. We’re running out. You know dat?