Tuesday, August 21, 2007

Trash. Coming to a Mailbox Near You.

I’ve been absent, I know. I took a week off from work and also from the computer. It was reeaaaal nice. Mostly, I cleaned. That doesn’t sound exciting to you, perhaps. But I was glad to get stuff out of the house. I have become a woman obsessed with getting rid of things. It makes me happy, so much so that when people try to give me gifts, I get upset. ‘No, no, no! I’m moving things the other way! Out, not in!’ I don’ t actual say that out loud, of course (except to my mom, the poor woman), but I think it. There are exceptions to the "no new stuff" rule. Hils got me a t-shirt that I love, another friend got me a handbag (but I got rid of another one I already had, so no net gain). I wouldn’t turn down a cd or a book by an author I love. But other than that, nothing doing. And instead of missing my things, I just feel relief. I’m sure that my throwoutitis will clear up before I’m sleeping on the floor, entertaining myself by counting bumps on the ceiling, and keeping my one clean change of clothes neatly stacked in the corner, but hopefully it will keep going for awhile. I love that I have discovered that what will make me feel at peace at home is not a bigger place with more closets, but just less stuff.

Of course, it does mean that, in my quest for getting rid of things, I have taken to mailing random junk to friends. I want to send some of it to BF/R, in the hopes of getting the “[JLR], what the hell?” phone call, but I know that she’ll just politely accept it, throw it in the trash, and later, if asked, will tell me that she’s terribly sorry, she feels really bad about it, but the dog ate it. And anyway, I’d just be sending it to her because I know she’d hate whatever it was. But because I won’t be around to see her reaction, it’s just not as fun. Thus, I am sending things to other friends, those that aren’t used to receiving random, pointless “gifts” in the mail from me (that rules out Hils) ("um, thanks for the ice trays?"). And so, at brunch this past Sunday, my friend D asks me why he’s recently received in the mail a dusty, cat-hair covered, plastic jump rope (he left out the description, but it hung in the air, unspoken but heavily present). “Well,” I said with only a slight twinge of embarrassment, “you’d mentioned you were wanting a jump rope.” ‘And,’ I thought, ‘it got it out of the house.’ This is what I’ve been doing.

So, for those of you whose address I know, be on the look out. I will probably not send you something you haven’t previously mentioned off-hand that you were looking into getting for yourself, but you never know. And if you’d like to receive random junk that you’ll be too ashamed to display but feel too guilty to get rid of (‘she did mail it to me, I can’t just throw it out’), just give me your address. Junk mail will be heading your way. But not the Cow-as -Vegas-Showgirl statuette. That stays with me.


jes said...

I'm a little embarrassed to admit this, but Roger had a similar cleaning frenzy this weekend. And instead of giving it away, we decided to THROW it away. Four trips to the dumpster worth.

And even before that? We had already filled 3 boxes with garage sale knick-knacks.

And we STILL have too much stuff.

JLR said...

I have thrown some stuff out (e.g., a rusty mini-trampoline and clothes that were faded and stained). And I've done the garage sale thing and made trips to Goodwill. But some of the stuff, I just love shuffling it off on someone else under the guise of friendship ("I'm sending this to you because I just know you'll love it!").

Say, jes, haven't I heard you mention that you have been looking for a slightly beat up purple plastic heart keychain?

Amstaff Mom said...

I will be standing at my mailbox in eager anticipation.

RR said...

I forgot about sending those ice trays to Hils. That was such fun.

Amstaff, you're still in school, right?