Yesterday I watched the garbage man toss a lamp, a brass coatrack, a pile of curtain rods, three bulging garbage bags and my usual full trashcan. He never paused, he never considered, he just picked them up and threw them in the truck. And if that wasn’t final enough, the truck sat there for a few minutes while all my old crap was crushed.
Man, it feels good to clean out the house and get rid of all this junk. On Thursday the recycling man took away almost every magazine I’ve collected, my correspondence with the Yomega yo-yo corporation, a marked up early print out of my first novel and more useless junk that I’ve realized I don’t need to store in the basement anymore.
Yesterday a man came and bought our half-finished Mac aquarium. I’ve also seen my Star Wars toys and baseball cards carted off. I’ve also eBayed a ton of stuff that was taking up space in drawers and made a run to Goodwill that filled the entire back of our car. And, believe it or not, we carted off four brimming grocery bags full of books.
Now I’m just waiting for my several leads to snatch up my NASCAR cards, the Batman stuff, the beast (we dropped the price), and I’m still hoping for a lead on my pile of Billy Graham memorabilia. Perhaps the family fued over Billy’s grave will spurn somebody to see the value in my box o’ Billy.