Dumpster Nirvana
For those of you who have followed my blog for a long time, you will know this is a day that will be marked in my personal history forever.
Jeanine has agreed to let me have a dumpster.
Now, Miss Pack Rat has been VERY clear that none of her things will be thrown away and I completely agreed to the terms. Believe me, we have plenty to toss without touching her stuff. And ever since our town changed the rules and we can only have one trash can of garbage a week, have to call to have anything extra picked up... well... it's time.
An old wicker couch, a broken treadmill, construction left overs from when my office was redone... we have some big things that need to go.
Okay, you all know I just cannot wait to get rid of all the crap I can possibly stuff into that dumpster. I will be in a frenzy and one better make sure I haven't tossed the kitten in there by mistake.
My hope is that if I can do one big purge, I can get back into a good rhythm of recycling everything possible, and only needing one can for garbage a week. Being married to Ms. Pat Rat is hard enough but when you fall behind with big items to toss... well... it's a nightmare for someone who would be happy with a minimalist approach to life.
I need a single, sharp chef's knife (and a steel to sharpen it), one large bowl, one wooden spoon, one spatula, a butter knife, a spoon and a fork to cook. Couple of pots. We have every known kitchen contraption known to mankind. That is the ying and yang of my relationship with Jeanine. She needs stuff. I do not.
The dumpster is a sign. A sign that she's ready to make some changes. Might sound silly but we did have a moment at the end of the summer where I had a fit. I, as always, got to the place where I was done with her working all the time. I wanted to be adored.
Heck, I wanted to be noticed.
She heard me. Because when I asked the other day, for about the 857th time, she said yes. Just don't touch my stuff.
I would never touch her stuff. I respect her need to hold onto some things even though I don't quite understand it. I know there are underlying, deep psychological issues represented in all those computers downstairs. I will be the model of restraint.
I'll call her mom and let her know the dumpster is coming and she'll be up here in a flash to help me out. Jeanine's mom can throw things away I cannot.
Weezie!!! It's party time!!
It's left me feeling hopeful and happy. The accumulated stuff doesn't taunt me, I simply smile and know that soon all will be restored to order again. It's that time of year. Time for new beginnings, new school books, new routines, new shoes. My life has always been dictated by the school calendar.
This year, though, feels different. Big changes are in the air. New treatment for my sister's cancer. New Executive Director for Mass Equality. New school for Ben. New brilliant idea for a shareholder resolution.
And a dumpster.
Nirvana. Pure nirvana.
Jeanine has agreed to let me have a dumpster.
Now, Miss Pack Rat has been VERY clear that none of her things will be thrown away and I completely agreed to the terms. Believe me, we have plenty to toss without touching her stuff. And ever since our town changed the rules and we can only have one trash can of garbage a week, have to call to have anything extra picked up... well... it's time.
An old wicker couch, a broken treadmill, construction left overs from when my office was redone... we have some big things that need to go.
Okay, you all know I just cannot wait to get rid of all the crap I can possibly stuff into that dumpster. I will be in a frenzy and one better make sure I haven't tossed the kitten in there by mistake.
My hope is that if I can do one big purge, I can get back into a good rhythm of recycling everything possible, and only needing one can for garbage a week. Being married to Ms. Pat Rat is hard enough but when you fall behind with big items to toss... well... it's a nightmare for someone who would be happy with a minimalist approach to life.
I need a single, sharp chef's knife (and a steel to sharpen it), one large bowl, one wooden spoon, one spatula, a butter knife, a spoon and a fork to cook. Couple of pots. We have every known kitchen contraption known to mankind. That is the ying and yang of my relationship with Jeanine. She needs stuff. I do not.
The dumpster is a sign. A sign that she's ready to make some changes. Might sound silly but we did have a moment at the end of the summer where I had a fit. I, as always, got to the place where I was done with her working all the time. I wanted to be adored.
Heck, I wanted to be noticed.
She heard me. Because when I asked the other day, for about the 857th time, she said yes. Just don't touch my stuff.
I would never touch her stuff. I respect her need to hold onto some things even though I don't quite understand it. I know there are underlying, deep psychological issues represented in all those computers downstairs. I will be the model of restraint.
I'll call her mom and let her know the dumpster is coming and she'll be up here in a flash to help me out. Jeanine's mom can throw things away I cannot.
Weezie!!! It's party time!!
It's left me feeling hopeful and happy. The accumulated stuff doesn't taunt me, I simply smile and know that soon all will be restored to order again. It's that time of year. Time for new beginnings, new school books, new routines, new shoes. My life has always been dictated by the school calendar.
This year, though, feels different. Big changes are in the air. New treatment for my sister's cancer. New Executive Director for Mass Equality. New school for Ben. New brilliant idea for a shareholder resolution.
And a dumpster.
Nirvana. Pure nirvana.
posted by Sara at 9:14 AM
6 Comments:
This sounds wonderful! Get 'er done! Your soul will be so much lighter with all that crap out of the way.
Yay for your wife!
This comment has been removed by the author.
Sara!
I'm a journalist from Boston Spirit Magazine - a gay lifestyle magazine based in Boston. We are doing a story about Proposition 8 and I'm trying my best to get hold of you.
If you could call me on 857-277-2552 or email me at swether@fas.harvard.edu at some point in the next week I'd really appreciate it!
Love the blog!
Sam.
sam, I'll call in the morning...
"I need a single, sharp chef's knife (and a steel to sharpen it), one large bowl, one wooden spoon, one spatula, a butter knife, a spoon and a fork to cook. Couple of pots. We have every known kitchen contraption known to mankind. That is the ying and yang of my relationship with Jeanine. She needs stuff. I do not."
This describes my relationship with Yvette to a tee. She needs stuff. I do not.
Hi Sara,
Sam the journalist from Spirit again.
I didn't get your call (though I'm sure your terribly busy). Lets set up a time to talk in the next few days. I think your input would be fantastic for this piece.
Sam.
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