So the other night Christina and I went to go see Toy Story 3 (bring a tissue, folks) and I was thinking about all the toys I loved as a kid. My favorites were my Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle action figures, which I collected since they first hit the market through the better part of my elementary school life.

Whenever I’d move and consolidate my posessions, my Ninja Turtles always came with me. When I lived with my roommates and was planning my move to Boston, though, I knew they couldn’t make the trip. I barely had enough money to ship my necessary stuff across the country, and as much as I hated the idea, I left them behind. My roommate’s parents, who owned the house we rented, said to just leave whatever I wasn’t taking with me in the garage and they’d take it to the dump.

I remember looking back at the garage as I left the house for the last time, and a part of my childhood died that day.

But literally the next day after seeing Toy Story 3, I got a text from my old roommate’s wife (who was also my roommate, the story is complicated when I haven’t bothered to give everyone’s name) saying “Hey Joe, we found some old boxes of your Ninja Turtle toys in the garage of the old house. You want them?”

Hah. Do I want them. OF COURSE I DO!

So now my Ninja Turtle figures, which I thought were long lost to the abyss, are on their way home. I couldn’t be more excited.

Isn’t the timing on that weird?