The Impeachment of Senator Snowball
Yes, well...

The Thing Machine

Transfer station

Always this: Surely you could have found a better way. 

Maybe? It's not for lack of trying and the first time I went I cried through the whole process. You back your vehicle up to the dumping line, open whatever doors need opening, and start pulling the shit out of your car. Five hundred CDs shattered on pavement followed by a mid-century drop leaf table that was perfectly intact until it hit the ground. Furniture, clothing, even some antiques, and bags and bags and bags.

The first time I did this was after four weeks of phone calls. Surely someone needs this sofa! The bed? Not the mattress; OK, I understand. What about this clothing? No. Too much already. How is that possible? The first time was an absolute horror; it took four separate trips to unload it all at a cost of $180 plus gas at the end of the day. I didn't think I could do it again but we weren't done. I was still hanging on.

I am in the middle of six sets of disposal. The first time I had it all separated out. I thought there was a place for plastic, another for wood, a pile for metal alone, and certainly paper! but no. A million car and truck loads of unwanted stuff scooped up by the moving machines and crushed into blocks. I am afraid to ask where the blocks go. 

This will be the last time, I tell myself. It is inconceivable that the things I'll pack into a 15 x 4.5 space will become the victims of another downsizing. I tell myself: It is possible, but not probable. I am throwing away books again; may the Gods bless my broken soul.

I purchased floor mats from Amazon today. To keep fifteen boxes of books just slightly above the floor of a long term storage unit that is not climate controlled. My mouse hovered over the complete purchase button and tried to pull itself away. 

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