Montón 1: Andás conmigo a la tierra del asado
Montón 2: O voy a venderte, guardarte o obsequiarte al Ejército de Salvación. Realmente, voy a tratar de venderte, no poderlo, y luego voy a ponerte en una cajita en almacenamiento de lo cual voy a olvidarme, probando así que ya no te necesito y yo te debiera haber obsequiado al Ejército de Salvación en primer lugar.
¡Boludo! Es como esa pelicula "La Elección de Sophia"
(en) Holy Shit! I can't believe we leave next month. 36 days is barely more than a month and we haven't even started packing. But the truth is that I've been looking at everything I own and silently separating my entire material reality into 2 separate piles:
Pile 1: You're coming with me to the Land of the Asado
Pile 2: I'm either going to sell you, store you or give you away to the Salvation Army. Realistically, I'll try to sell you, not be able to, and then I'll put you in some little box in storage that I will completely forget about, thus proving that I no longer need you and should have given you away to the Salvation Army in the first place.
Fuck, it's like it's Sophie's Choice, except it's with my sweatshirts instead of babies, and the fire is actually a ten hour flight.