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Posts Tagged ‘sonic the hedgehog’

mess

We rented yet another dumpster.

I have a love/hate relationship with these things. Having a dumpster in my driveway means work is progressing. It means getting rid of the old and bringing in the new. It means things are moving along.

It also means I have to throw things out. There’s something about having this huge trash receptacle in my driveway that just screams THROW THAT DAMN STUFF OUT YOU PACK RAT! So I head into the garage and start eyeing bags and boxes of stuff that I’ve been hoarding since time began.

Over the years, I’ve gotten better at throwing things out. When I moved from our last apartment into this house, I dumped a lot of stuff. It was hard, but I did it. I saved so many useless papers – I swear, I had every single test either of my kids ever took. Hell, I think I had every scrap of paper they ever drew on. I had not just old toys, but the boxes the old toys came in. Board games with missing pieces. Clothes I’d never wear again. 8 track tapes? I wouldn’t even know where to find a player these days. And who listens to Jefferson Starship on purpose anyhow?

Somehow a lot of my junk still came with me to the house. After about two years in this house, the garage started to look like the rummage sale of a mentally ill person. Right after Todd moved here in November, we cleaned out the garage. Threw tons of stuff out. It looked fresh and new and you could almost fit a car into it. So how the hell is it all filled up again? Do all my papers and books and holiday decorations multiply? I don’t understand it.

Well, we have a dumpster. Let’s throw some stuff out. (all conversations herein paraphrased)

Todd: You should ditch all these albums. They suck.
Me: Like you wouldn’t listen to the 12 inch dance remix of Electric Avenue?
Todd: *silent glare*

I thumb through the rest of the albums. This is all the shitty stuff I couldn’t sell on eBay when I went through my “get rid of your valued treasures for cash” phase about seven years ago. And let me tell you how much I regret doing that. But you do stupid things when you are broke and desperate for money and your “partner” doesn’t have a job but convinces you that you could make a killing on eBay by selling YOUR stuff.

Anyhow. A box of vinyl, and the only thing that gets saved is Husker Du’s New Day Rising, which shouldn’t have been in the junk pile to begin with.

And so it goes in the garage.

Todd: Why are you saving this?
Me: I don’t even know what is.
Todd: Isn’t this broken?
Me: Probably.
Todd: Dude. Are all these batteries dead?
Me: I guess I meant to throw them out…
Todd: What the fuck is this thing?
Me: It’s a beanie baby.

By the time we’re done I realize that half the stuff in the garage is being held onto for sentimental purposes only. The beanie babies are ratty looking and dirty and remind me of a zoo in a third world country. But….my kids loved those things when they were little! I know, I know. They’re not little anymore and they probably don’t even remember that I drove all over town trying to get that one elusive beanie.

Into the dumpster.

Then I get into a groove. I get bold. What the hell am I saving these books for? I’ll never read them again. In fact, I hate Dean Koontz and I don’t even know where this book came from. TOSS! Comic books that have no resale value that I’ll never read again? TOSS! Christmas decorations that are held together by duct tape and spit? TOSS! Seventeen millennium falcons from a Star Wars promo Taco Bell did back in 1997? TOSS!

pretty falcons all in a row

What? What did I just do? I threw out STAR WARS PARAPHERNALIA??

Ok. Here’s where I either commit myself or pat myself on the back. Up until now, my Star Wars toys have been holy. Untouchable. Has my desire to have a beautiful home finally outweighed my need to hang on to my pop culture artifacts? Have I…..grown up?

Before I lose my resolve, I start tossing. A Boba Fett with a missing leg. My 5th, 6th and 7th Han Solo in carbonite figures. A broken Landspeeder. And then I blindly toss. Just reach into the boxes and start hurling things into the dumpster. Spider Man toys. A Sonic the Hedgehog doll. A bunch of Hellboy figures. More comic books. More records. Cassette tapes. Controllers for consoles that no longer exist. PURGE! PURGE!

Ohh! My little Angry Beaver figures!!

Yea, like you even thought for a second that I grew up overnight.

I did toss out a whole lot more after that and man, it felt good. The garage is nowhere near clean yet, but I’m guessing that throwing out the Star Wars stuff means throwing out everything else will be easy.

Here’s another thing about dumpsters that suck: Neighbors.

Between the neighbors who are peeking in the garbage to see what we’ve thrown out and the neighbors who are emptying their own garages out into our dumpster, I’m about to throw up a yellow “crime scene” ribbon, write the word FUTURE on top of “crime scene” and let it serve as a warning to anyone who thinks that they can just traipse into my driveway to either dump their crap or to take out the stuff I already dumped. Do you know how easy it is to hide a body underneath seven boxes worth of worthless comics, toys and records? Keep your damn dirty paws off my garbage, you scavengers!

Because we all know I’m gonna sneak out there in the middle of the night and take those millennium falcons back.

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