A Trashy Trophy Wife, Yes.

I feel lighter. Not necessarily the bounce-in-your-step I've conquered-my-demons- lighter, but lighter, nevertheless.

I feel that way because I am 1200 pounds lighter, more than half a ton, for those inclined to measure weight in tonnage, yes.

Note: As a Certified Weighmaster in the (great) State of California, I understand such propensity. Seriously. Weighmaster. How fantastic is that?

Nevertheless (my new pet word, obviously), the Hub and I hauled 1200 pounds of junk and/or crap to the Transfer Station yesterday. The 1200 pounds did not include the metal, wood and rubber recyclables which may, I fear, bring our tonnage to nearly a ton, yes.

Which bears this question: Who has a ton of crap in their garage?

Note: Where do I live? A trailer park?

Note: I am not denigrating the trailer park, for I know a few Trophy Wives who live there. Or I know a few Trophy Wives who may have driven through. Or may have seen it as they have driven by. But still.

The Transfer Station, a dump, yes, did not take credit cards, so Hub and I had the luxury of driving back into the nearby hip winery town and buying two Diet Cokes and some polenta at the grocery store to get cash back.

It may seem odd to carry polenta to a 14' U-Haul filled with nearly a ton of crap.

But a Trophy Wife's got to eat.

Heck, yes!