Wednesday, July 19, 2006

Another Bag of Garbage

I just filled another fairly large bag of garbage and carried it out to the curb.  This one was full of stuff from the bedroom--the stuff of my life from parts of the last 60 years!  Clothes, a favorite brown plaid wool shirt, for example, underwear and socks.  I'm hauling my life to the curb.  Garbage has become the measure of my days.  How many bags can I fill and carry to the garage or curb?  I get less filled on horribly hot days, less filled on days that follow insomniac nights (like last night), less filled on days I visit my mother or shop or take a break to do laundry.  I suppose I should feel lightened and exhilerated, but instead, I just feel depressed and sad.  It is nice though, when a new spot becomes empty.  It's just so slow.

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