Cleaning things out
This is my last week without the boy for a while. Once school starts, he’ll be with me until December, because of the stupid Delta variant.
So, I’ve been working on getting my life on track the past month, like cleaning up his room so that it’s more functional for a young boy and not a baby.
It also includes cleaning out the last bits of Alison’s things.
It’s hard getting rid of things. Everything matters to me in some manner or another.
But the flooding was a good push for me to do what I knew I had to do.
Alison was never overly sentimental; she would rather have a clean and functional home than one packed to the rafters with unused things.
Her daily driver for outerwear was a simple black puffer coat. Of course, I don’t have a single fucking picture of her wearing it.
I gave it away yesterday to someone special, but I went through the pockets of it first. There were exactly two things there: A very neatly folded five-dollar bill and a Metrocard that expired November 30, 2015.
It was the first time I cried in 2021, I think.
I put them both away. It’s weird, I deal with value on a regular basis.
There’s a tenuous connection between value and emotions/nostalgia. Consider a cheap $0.25 pen. Now imagine it was your favourite actor that used that pen for years and then finally tossed it. Is it worth $0.25?
Or far more, because he used it? Or far less because it’s broken?
I always found that whole thing silly and amusing.
Until lately, I guess. Now, $5 is worth a lot more than $5, as is a used, expired Metrocard. At least to me.
Ah, I’m doing it again, aren’t I?
On a funnier note, I had the ABFF’s cleaner come by to give the pad a solid clean – usually it’s just me, I’m the people – but, before she came, I wanted to give things a once-over, because I’m weird like that.
On top of one of my cabinets, I found yet another knife. That made me laugh.
I have issues.
I will say that I’ve enjoyed being able to meet up with people willy-nilly and whenever I wanted these past few weeks.
Me: Are you in the mood for wings?
Me: Goodness, on what? Even bad wings are still ok wings.
Me: Do you want to get a drink?
Her: I could go for some pie.
Me: I was just telling someone that pies are superior to cake.
Her: Let’s not go that far.
Him: I got shots. Tequila and pickle-juice.
Me: I’m pre-emptively throwing up inside.