My worker friend with a truck came down to Monterey to help me move my new antique cabinet. I told her how I had asked the thrift store to send over a truck so that I could donate stuff to them.
“I have a truck, and I am here,” Kelly said. “We can load it up tomorrow and take it down there when we pick up your cabinet.”
I said no, that I wasn’t ready.
“Why not?” she pushed. “Do you have to have a ritual ceremony to say good-bye?”
Sometimes the truth hurts.
The next morning I had seen the light.
The thrift store woman had asked for photos, so I went out to the garage with damp hair and in the rain to take photos while Kelly held up pieces of furniture. I had a lot more squirreled away than I remembered.
We went down to get the cabinet, and I showed the thrift store lady the photos. She liked it all but said to only bring half, since she didn’t have room for the big stuff.
We got the antique cabinet home and even into the yard and up to the porch.
“My brother-in-law will help you with that when he gets here for lunch,” I said.
“I don’t need no stinkin’ man to help me,” Kelly said as she muscled the solid-oak piece up to the porch on two boards I’d found in the house.
The thing was on rollers, so once we were in the front door, it was smooth sailing to the cleared out corner.
We loaded up fifteen small-item furniture pieces and headed back downtown. The truck looked like Jed Clampett’s rig in the Beverly Hillbillies.
I thought I would feel sad about seeing it all go. Instead I felt relief that it was out of my garage and off my plate.
The thrift store woman was thrilled and asked us to help price things. She wanted the round white table, so when she said twenty five dollars, I had to agree with her even though it was worth double. After all, she works (volunteers?) there.
“I do it for the animals,” she always says.
My garage looks better except now for all the blue Rubbermaid tubs full of stuff. At least it is lined up in neat rows and sorted by person and/or holiday. When the Earth is destroyed and all the animals and people are gone, and aliens come down to survey the damage, they will wonder what the indestructible blue vessels filled with randomness were for.
Now, if I could just get the adult children to come claim their stuff . . .