The big green-and-yellow Western Waste truck just went down the alley by my building and emptied the two big dumpsters at the former residence.
What a relief!
I threw out a frightening amount of stuff. Old press materials, magazines I never read, knicknacks, "mementoes," things I thought I'd one day need and never did.
A whole lot of memories are on their way to the landfill. But if I'm honest, would I have ever tested anyone's patience by making them look at old name badges from events I attended, passes from long-ago races, faded photos of faded friendships?
I think not.
It wasn't so difficult once I started. I just needed a long time -- and more than a few deep breaths -- before I consigned the first such item to the bin. After that, I let it all out, and was pretty ruthless about what got dumped and what was saved.
I still have far too much stuff. In a few months, I can start pruning the boxes in storage.
PARENTHETICAL ONE-MAN'S-JUNK-IS-ANOTHER'S-TREASURE-NOTE: There's a young geek (I'm certain he works with computers) in the old building. He jumped at the chance to take my ratty old couch and a dining-room set I was planning to dump. Even gave me $10. I would have left 'em for the cleaning crew to dispense with. I couldn't shift them on my own.
In a way, I feel a little sad about it all. Those things were, after all, part of me and whatever life I've had. Some represented events that won't be repeated.
But when you get right down to it, no one else gives a happy damn about that stuff. And, given the choices I've had to make lately, neither do I.
Good riddance to bad rubbish.
Still depresses me just a little....
3 hours ago