I cleaned out a cabinet this weekend. A cabinet that hasn't been touched for probably 10 years or so. It's been added to, but never subtracted from. It's amazing what you find. In the end, I threw out a half stuffed black garbage bag full of moments in time.
Did I ever write about how much I love black garbage bags? It's a free for all when you possess one. Top it off with a generous portion of dog shit and your dirty little secrets are safe for eternity.
It was weird. I found pictures of some girlfriends at a party pissing on the john(not a john, but you, know, the toilet). You could tell it was back in the days of au naturel. There were no miniscule landing strips or stenciled hearts or tiny triangles. These were full fluffy pussies, brunette and shiny...the 'fros down below. (clear plastic beer glasses in hand)
How many old birthday cards can you keep? Apparently not enough. For some reason I seem to want to hang on to the ones from my 93 year old Granny "O". She has such sweet swirly cursive writing. Out they went, along with a plethora of "Congratulations on your New Baby Boy" and "With Deepest Sympathy".
I found letters that I never sent to my brother when I was in England. I found journal entries written on pieces of paper about boys that I couldn't even remember. Who the HELL was I talking about?
It was a purging of lives. Past lives. I tossed it all and kept the good stuff. Last night I rolled the swollen dumpster of a thousand dead weight pounds to the curb. This morning I heard the garbage truck pick it up and eat every last forgotten morsel.
