It's like an embargo

So, once again we're preparing to move and so I go CRAZY MENTAL NUTS cleaning and throwing away and donating and organizing. So I said to Paul the other day:

Me - Okay, its that time again so I'm instituting a COMPLETE MORATORIUM on bringing new things into this house. Complete. Total. No exceptions except food, toiletries and necessities.

Paul - Okay.

*****

A week or two later:

Paul - (on his cell) Can you come out to the car and carry my lunch and stuff cause I have to bring in my new monitor.

Me - You have a new monitor?

Paul - Yeah! They were throwing it away at work and my boss said I could have it. Its got a massive flat screen although its an old one so its a big, heavy thing.

Me - *sigh* Hang on, I'll be right there.

***

Me - Are you KIDDING? This is like 50 pounds worth of shit we don't need! What about the moratorium? The MORATORIUM!!

Paul - Uh, well, here's the thing. I haven't been able to follow your moratorium rule.

Me - *more sighing* Because you're a compulsive hoarder?

Paul - Well, no. More because I don't technically know what 'moratorium' means.