I found this really ironic card in a pile of letters seven years old.
My friend, Greg Vranizan, sent this card to me after I moved out of my dream home that I lived in with my soon-to-be ex-husband. I was despondent. I recall that move-out well. I didn’t have time to be selective about what I took, I just had to get the hell out of there. I remember digging into my closet and finding what amounted to trash packed into the corners. I was pissed at myself that I had been saving that kind of crap but I didn’t have time to do triage, so I shoved it in a box and moved it to my new home. So home is where the heart is, but it’s not shoved in a box. It’s buried under a pile of junk.
After being hung over yesterday I can’t tell you how good it feels to NOT DRINK. Seriously, why does anyone drink? I mean, it’s fun while you’re doing it but the day after? There is a special place in hell for those who overindulge and have kids to deal with in the morning. Really, I don’t know how alcoholics do it.
Today is ridiculously busy. I didn’t walk the dog yesterday (I mean the hour-long walk, he went around the block plenty of times) for the first time in months and I’m feeling guilt ridden. So that’s 90 minutes spoken for. I’m taking a Pole Dance workshop with Estée Zakar, that’s another 90 minutes. I promised to do a little pole dance “study hall” with a friend at my house so we can keep up with our skills (60 minutes) and Lonny is throwing a holiday party for his bird club so we have to clean up the house. And I need to give him a haircut. And put up the Christmas Tree. Yikes.
So here’s today’s quickie haul; not bad, I think. It hasn’t taken long for me to retrain myself to see something superfluous and, instead of tidying it up, I put it in the to-go pile. Aside from the writing and listing of the stuff, it’s really easy.
This is a chair that never gets used, except when the kids take the cushion off and use it for fort building. Furthermore, it obstructs a very nice cabinet that is full of lovely dishes that I never look at and therefore never use. It’s gotta go, but it’s a nice piece of Mid-Century-Modern design (no tags so I don’t know the provenance) but I’d be happy to part with it for $75. You can see more pictures on Craigslist.
Sony Walkman Portable Minidisc Recorder MZ-R50. Lonny brought this home years ago. I need to test it and see if I can find a cord for it so I can list it on eBay. He once sold something like this to a man, and I’m not making this up, seeking to make an audio recording of Big Foot. Why just audio? How about some photographs? Or video? Who knows. Why Big Foot?
This is a total pile of junk. There’s an I Spy game for your Mac, another massager that just burns through batteries, a scarf that came from nowhere (did you leave it here?), a couple nice bottles with cork stoppers, a piece of carpet tile, a little tape player and a really ugly thing I made in ceramics. Alana Mace threw the base, I built a ball and then I hot glued shells to it. I saw one at a spa in California and decided to make my own. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Given some recent FB posts, I’m feeling sheepish about having engaged in such activity.
My mother-in-law insists on giving us magazine subscriptions. National Geographic is a wonderful publication but seriously, I don’t have the time. So there they are, still in the wrapper, making me feel guilty.
This is one of those items that will bite me in the ass. A kid (not mine) knocked this lamp over and broke the glass so it’s been sitting in this corner, naked CF bulbs and all, for several years. Lonny says it’s a really nice piece and although I don’t see it, I’ll bet anything that the next time I browse a coffee table book of hip vintage interior design, this very lamp will be front and center and I’ll be all, “Why didn’t I listen to Lonny?!”