The kids are back in school and I've been on a housecleaning rampage. My messy house finally got to be too much. Perhaps it's because we'll be celebrating our nineteenth year here on September 14, but suddenly it's all too clear that the things we haven't used in many years, but thought we might someday, were just taking up space. Once I got started, I was addicted. Addicted to lightening my load. Addicted to making each surface look different, less cluttered.
It's resulted in a decluttering of my imagination, too. Hopefully this will translate to lots of room to write new fiction.
In the meantime I'm still looking at each thing we own with new eyes--rediscovering some lost friends with excitement, tossing others in bags to throw away or donate. Our garbage can is suddenly bursting each week.
This morning, it was filled so high, the cover didn't quite close. I always feel guilty and anxious when that happens. Which is odd because the City of Berkeley trash collectors have never refused to take away the contents of an over-full can. This only happened once when I lived in Manhattan. I was punished by those guys for being greedy with the cans. They didn't take the trash for the whole building as revenge. So I'm always expecting the lid to fall.
Today I was out trying to sell some used books and when I returned the trash collectors had clearly come to our block based on the once neatly aligned containers of my neighbors standing at odd angles, some lids left open. I looked hopefully for evidence mine had been emptied, too.
But my trash can was gone.
Nowhere to be seen.
For the past few days I'd been thinking I couldn't wait until Thursday (today) when I could begin the sorting and discarding process in a new part of the house, gallons of new garbage space waiting to accept my offerings to the cause of a fresh, renewed, empty (in the good Buddhist sense) life. And now I can't--at least for a while. The City tells me sometimes people steal larger cans so they can throw away more without officially paying for the can. But that's sort of creepy, too. Was someone watching and noticed I was gone?
The nice lady claimed they'd deliver a new can this week. Until then, I'll have to sort and clean my life in other ways.
Was this a who-gives-a-fuck? blog post or what? Thanks for listening!