Skip to main content

SPRING CLEANING

The weather is warming. Spring is in the air. It's time to clean house.

Not really.

I don't clean by the clock...or the calendar, for that matter. But The Southern Woman That I Married has decided that the rug in my Man Cave needs to be replaced. I think that the reason for that decision - aside from the fact that it's spring and that the rug is as old as Moses, tattered at the edges, and worn through in spots - is that there was a cute little rug on sale.

I shall refrain from reminding you of the difference between Martians and Venusians: A man will spend two dollars the first place that he shops on something that he could have bought for one dollar if he'd read the ads. A woman happily spends two dollars on something that she doesn't need but the ads say is on sale.

Anyway, the changeover has to happen on a weekday while I'm at work because TSWTIM's help is not available on weekends. I come home and my stuff is in boxes. All of my stuff is in boxes. Stuff I haven't seen for 30 years is in boxes. I can't leave my stuff in boxes. I have to go through my stuff.

Have you ever gone through 30 year-old stuff? Not just any stuff. Your stuff.

OK. I'll quit doing my George Carlin imitation.

43 birthday, anniversary, get well, and congratulatory cards. Pictures of my parents, an uncle, old friends, old girl friends (that TSWTIM has met and doesn't like very much), me with hair on my head, TSWTIM with different colored hair on her head, Captain Jim's old Camaro with a hand-painted gardenia on the hood, and Rusty Sharp's Yamaha TZ250 with the custom aluminum fairing.

18 old floppy disks containing useless information - I think, but I didn't check them to find out. A dozen compact discs on which are various pictures and songs that are already on my computer and backed up. Five unopened decks of cards. Various hand-held games meant to be played in cars and on planes that have never been opened. Two pairs of cheap suspenders (gifts) that have never been used.

A box full of non-returnable paperback murder mysteries and spy novels bought at the used book store - I hate throwing away books. Nine classic sci-fi books that I WILL save. A history of the Filmore East that TSWTIM gave me on my birthday long ago. I can pick out a half-dozen shows that I attended with those girlfriends the TSWTIM doesn't like. 26 catalogs long out of date. Two boxes of papers left over from my stints in local government.

Notepaper in the shape of the state of Texas (another gift). My mother's jewelry (that my sister doesn't want). Various Kiwanis bits of memorabilia. Various other bits of memorabilia.

So, lots of garbage on the curb on Sunday night. 30 years of stuff that I haven't looked at in 30 years. Never needed any of it.

Why do I miss it?

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

GRAND CAFE OCCITAN: RESTAURANT REVIEW

  We made our way to a new restaurant the other day, up toward the hills past La Liviniere in the small town of Felines-Minervois. None of our party had been there before, but a friend had visited and said that she'd enjoyed it. She's a vegetarian. First clue. Now don't get me wrong. I have no gripe with those who choose to go meatless. I understand the environmental concerns and I understand the horrors of factory farming. But I also understand that form follows function in the design of tools, in the design of appliances, and in the design of human teeth. Our incisors and canines did not develop over the course of hundreds of thousands of years to rend the flesh of a fresh-caught broccoli. We are omnivores by design, Darwinian design. And I enjoy eating omni. Enough preamble... I never went inside the Grand Cafe Occitan. A young lady who would be our server met us at the front door of the nicely pointed old stone house, leading us to a pebble-covered courtyard on the side

MONARCHY, BUTT PATTING, SELF CHECKOUT, AND RANDOM STUFF: #17

  MONARCHY It is not possible to be an English-speaking expat living in Europe without having gained some understanding of how the UK works and how UK policies and politics affect European life. And so, a word about the monarchy is in order today. I'm no monarchist. As an American, I have grown up believing in liberal democracy. Today, I consider myself a democratic socialist. But I have come to appreciate the manner in which British royalty has accommodated itself to the modern world. There is no doubt that accommodation has diminished the role of the monarch. That's probably a good thing. But a diminished monarchy need not necessarily herald the end of the monarchy. Elizabeth's monarchy became simply the personification of her country's flag, to be trotted out to acknowledge community, in good times and in sad times, expressing publicly what was being felt privately. There was a time, during Brexit, when I was furious with Elizabeth. As one of the richest, most well-

THINKING OUT LOUD...