My dumpster is here!
The guy just brought it from the local waste management company, backed his truck into the driveway, and dropped it off. There it will sit for the next fourteen days, and all the while I'll be loading it up.
For a minimalist like me, this could only be good news, right? Over the past four-and-a-half years now, I've dreamed of this day. Both my parents were very un-minimalist. Whenever my father took a nap, I'd set my sites on how I could maybe smuggle 73 peanut butter jars my stepmother had squirreled away out to the curb for recycling. And now, I have this huge dumpster, big as a swimming pool, to fill up with crap.
But what is this tugging at my heartstrings?
This could be bad.
It was one thing to view with jaundiced eye the very La-Z-Boy recliner my father was sitting on--filthy, broken, smelly--and dream of getting rid of it. But it's quite another when that filthy, broken, smelly recliner is all I have left of the man. His physical presence is gone, and all he left behind is clutter.
Suddenly, I'm seeing everything in a new light. I could draw up a long list of why that cheap awful floorlamp should be consigned to the dumpster (it's broken, there's a short in the wire, it's cheap wood and poorly made, I would never be able to sell it, I'm damned sure not keeping it). But in the adjacent column listing reasons to not throw it in the dumpster are three little words: it was his.
I think, perhaps, I'll have to start small and work my way up. Like down in the basement, home to stuff that even my parents would probably admit should have been thrown out but wasn't. And since our basement flooded a couple of years ago, that stuff that should have been thrown out is now water damaged. I'll start with thee easy stuff, the obvious trash (that sounds like a queeny put-down, no? "Oh her? Obvious trash. That's what she is."). And slowly slowly I'll work my way towards those things which probably still bear my father's fingerprints.
I thought this would be easy. But clearly, it's going to be very difficult.