duck-shaped pain

Had a strange dream last night, about work, which is to be expected. On the surface, everything seemed the same � identical house, the usual cast of coworkers and their complaints, but the focus of the business had changed from geological consulting to modeling life-size wax models of hockey players. This produced some fundamental changes � different tools laying about, wax smell permeating food and clothes and everything, more people walking about finishing their sentences with "eh?" � but my job remained exactly the same and sucked just as much. Even in a dream world.

This morning, I woke up early, but I was determined not to kill myself by stressing out and getting in early. So I called in to say I would be late (pointless, really, since I ended up being the first one in, anyway), made a big pot of coffee, and sat down to read the new issue of Punk Planet and some of the Tintin books I checked out from the library the other day (I was in the mood for some really easy reading, preferably with pictures) and sat. And vegged. It was nice.

On the way in, I stopped at a yard sale. Those of you who read the journal last summer, when I had a whole lot more free time, will be surprised to learn that this is maybe only the fourth or fifth yard sale I've been to all year. I just haven't had a whole lot of time in the mornings to go to them, and when I do, sleeping or sitting around have taken prominence. Also, they haven't fit in well with my recent theme of Get Rid of Stuff, unless it involves me having one myself, which I haven't.

But I stopped at this one, anyway. Nothing really spectacular. Some clothes that didn't fit me, plastic food containers without lids, some crappy overpriced books. I was going to leave, but then I saw the free box.

Never pass up a free box. Usually, they're full of things you shouldn't even give away � old women's magazines, broken pencils, well-worn plastic fast-food drink cups, the like, but this one actually had some decent things in it. I scored a bunch of old recipe pamphlets, some tiny Catholic prayer books, a bunch of old photographs (I did ask if they meant to give the photos away � they looked to be from about the 1920s or so, and I didn't want to take someone's family photos that they had accidentally misplaced), and a tiny old shaving kit, complete with Bakelite handles on the comb and brush. The woman holding the sale said that they had found this box in the trunk of a car they had bought and "who has a use for any of that old crap, anyway?"

Well, I do. It will join and keep company all my other old crap. It will become part of the collection of things I love, never use, but can't bear to get rid of. Someday there will be a reckoning, but I think for now I'll just enjoy my old crap.

previous | next