Further reflections on moving:
There must be some kind of physiological reason that certain disturbed citizens like myself hoard junk long after familiarity has eroded away the novelty. Do I need you, oversized dice? Do I, a tone-deaf and lazy individual, require 4 different harmonicas? Today I tried to find space for silly hats, tool belts, statues of Korean people and a bronze goblet that I won years ago in a crossbow-shooting contest at a Renaissance Faire.
Maybe the thing proclaimed my status in some overwrought script and phrases like “Crossbow Winner” or “Robin Hood in Training” or something I would consider keeping it. Unfortunately, I know that these goblets are just given out to youngsters willy-nilly and without honor, their cost already covered by the hideously inflated prices of the Ye Olde Juice of Jamba served on site.
Can people even drink from bronze? If I wouldn’t want to win a medal of it in gymnastics, then I don’t want to risk my health on it. Plus, that sucker is probably heavy, which is a huge determent where moving is concerned.
I guess the going excuse for keeping these sort of things (things= Gargoyle book ends, llama toy with real llama fur, framed internet comics, Jesus candle from the supermarket) is that they might make excellent conversation pieces.
I’m still waiting for someone to walk into my home and ask me point blank exactly (yet…. conversationally) what my intentions are in keeping a megaphone from my high-school beside an American Girls Christmas ornament, a collection of unclaimed rocks, keys and bouncy balls found on the ground, stacked atop a pile of readers from every course I took at college. Perhaps the ensuing conversation would bring enlightenment.
In other news, I’m reading two short story books cyclically, with no confusion yet. We shall see how this develops.
There must be some kind of physiological reason that certain disturbed citizens like myself hoard junk long after familiarity has eroded away the novelty. Do I need you, oversized dice? Do I, a tone-deaf and lazy individual, require 4 different harmonicas? Today I tried to find space for silly hats, tool belts, statues of Korean people and a bronze goblet that I won years ago in a crossbow-shooting contest at a Renaissance Faire.
Maybe the thing proclaimed my status in some overwrought script and phrases like “Crossbow Winner” or “Robin Hood in Training” or something I would consider keeping it. Unfortunately, I know that these goblets are just given out to youngsters willy-nilly and without honor, their cost already covered by the hideously inflated prices of the Ye Olde Juice of Jamba served on site.
Can people even drink from bronze? If I wouldn’t want to win a medal of it in gymnastics, then I don’t want to risk my health on it. Plus, that sucker is probably heavy, which is a huge determent where moving is concerned.
I guess the going excuse for keeping these sort of things (things= Gargoyle book ends, llama toy with real llama fur, framed internet comics, Jesus candle from the supermarket) is that they might make excellent conversation pieces.
I’m still waiting for someone to walk into my home and ask me point blank exactly (yet…. conversationally) what my intentions are in keeping a megaphone from my high-school beside an American Girls Christmas ornament, a collection of unclaimed rocks, keys and bouncy balls found on the ground, stacked atop a pile of readers from every course I took at college. Perhaps the ensuing conversation would bring enlightenment.
In other news, I’m reading two short story books cyclically, with no confusion yet. We shall see how this develops.
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