Free to a good home: "Triceratops, Or Half Of It, Anyhow."

My first official "In-laws" visit came and went, and was relatively painless. With the exception of a minor, tiny, insignificant detail ... Or about 156 minor, tiny, insignificant details. Sitting in my living room in boxes. And dresser drawers. And bags.

Our parents are all looking forward to getting our belongings out of the house. Mine are coming Wednesday to bring me, of all things, my bike, my dollhouse from 1989, and some lawn chairs we couldn't fit in our own cars any time we were driving back from Ohio. Oh, and the wedding pictures.

His parents brought -- drumroll, please -- two coffee tables, a desk chair, a dresser, a partridge, a pear tree, less than half of a triceratops, some mini baseball helmet bowls, a football sign that was later determined to belong to Dave's brother, two football helmets, Little League trophies, books, a school workbook, a shelf, one sweet chair his grandpa made and seven lifetime's worth of Americana, boyhood "stuff."

Dave loved it. For a second. Then he realized "Oh, God, yeah, I'm married. And ... oh, no, my wife's not going to like this triceratop head on our coffee table."

And that's where he was right. Because I'm uptight sometimes, and that's only made worse by the thought of half-finished dinosaur models taking over my living room.

But there's happy ending. We didn't fight. For much longer than a few seconds. He threw a lot away. He hid the rest in the basement and a closet. It's out of sight. It's out of my mind.

And I'm pretty sure that's how most packrat marriages start.

(Photo: Apparently, I should've kept these bowls. They're going for a whole $9 on eBay.com right now. DANGIT.)