His and hers and theirs

The other night, Hubs was doing the usual flipping-between-baseball-games-and-cruising-other-channels thing when we stumbled across a sitcom that I assume is new.

I couldn't tell you what it's called, but the scene unfolding involved a woman telling her husband (boyfriend?) that she couldn't sleep in a bed he bought and shared with a previous girlfriend.

Hubs and I looked at each other and laughed.

"The table," we said in unison.

My spouse came with a lot of baggage — an ex-wife, two kids, the ex-wife's husband, and...

... the material remnants of Hubs' life with the ex.

Some of "their" stuff was already in Hubs' post-divorce house when I moved in.

But then, over the next few years, each time the ex dropped off the kids for the weekend, she brought over more things they'd shared during their marriage.

"I thought you might want this," she would say, proffering various dusty items.

A popcorn bowl.

A tea pitcher.

A lamp.

Mind you, by this time they had been divorced for four years. The ex had already remarried. It's not like she hadn't had time to dispose of all these unwanted items.

"Ugly," I said of the popcorn bowl. (to Hubs, not her)

"Already have one," I said of the pitcher.

"Ick," I said of the lamp.

And finally — "How freaking big is their garage anyway?"

At first it didn't bother me. But of course then I started analyzing and wondered, Is she trying to make a point? And if so, what?

In all likelihood, she probably saw the handoffs as an easy alternative to a garage sale.

Or maybe her new husband didn't want all these marital leftovers in his house either.

Whatever her reasoning, I did NOT want our home to be the dumping ground for all the items she and Hubs once shared.

For one, our small house was already cramped.

Second, I didn't really want to be surrounded by things she and Hubs had picked out together — things that were NOT to my taste or liking.

Not wanting to sound like an insecure, crazy-girl new wife (which, of course, I was), I first used the argument that we had no room for all these things.

And I was trying to be diplomatic, because for all I knew, Hubs was the one who picked out that hideous popcorn bowl.

But then Hubs announced that the ex was bringing over their former dining room table.

And I flipped out.

"NO MORE STUFF!" I ranted, hurling the popcorn bowl and tea pitcher into a garbage can.

It wasn't so much the image of them sitting around the table with their two kids — at the time, I had no children of my own, so yes, the image grated — but their refusal to leave the past behind and let me decorate and outfit my house in my own damn way.

Hubs protested.

"But I always liked that table," he argued.

It sat in the garage for months, collecting dust. Finally, he took it to a flea market.

Now it all seems so silly. At the time, however, when I was trying to establish a new and shared life with this man I had married, I didn't want all this stuff getting in my way. Literally or figuratively.

Lord knows there was enough mental flotsam without adding ex-furniture to the mix.

So while I laughed at the sitcom and the couple's bickering over an ex-spatula —

— secretly, I totally got it.