Thursday, September 24, 2009


Since I'm having such a busy day, what with the job interview and the central committee meeting and the new freeway finally opening, I only have time to tackle another tiny item on the project list. This brings me to the final of what I have been considering the preliminary tasks: the things that must be done before the serious organization and throwing out of things begins. (At least, it's the final preliminary blue room task. There are some things that must be completed in my bedroom as well, but those things are for other days, when I feel like it.)

So today, I cleaned off my desk. It's not a box, technically, nor was it even covered with boxes, but it was certainly full of piles of weirdness and that qualifies it as a valid project task. Hey, my house, my project, my rules; if you think I'm cheating, please comment. I am nothing if not desiring of accountability here.

This was quick work. With most of the blue room segregated into piles of boxes by type, it's easy to place the photo albums with the photo boxes, the DVDs on the visual media pile, the odds and ends in the odds-and-ends boxes. I had expected this to be a snap, and I'd expected to finish in time to work out and shower before The Sister came home to take me for a ride on the new section of freeway.

Instead, my emotions got the better of me.

Now, I've been wondering what to do with all my old fortune cookie fortunes. I used to tape them to my Simon & Patrick acoustic guitar, but I've rarely played it the past few years, so the fortunes have just been collecting in little piles. During the initial days of the project, (you know, last week) the little piles coalesced into one big pile on my desk. This wouldn't be a big deal, and in fact the majority of the pile went into a ziploc bag and the bag went into an odds-and-ends box and I thought that would be the end of it for now.

Nope. Instead, a thud, a knife to the heart, and a swift twist of the blade, as I found the original whiskey vs wine fortune and its accompanying secret messages. A thud, as I found them. A knife to the heart as I remembered why I took them out of my wallet last April. And a swift twist of the blade as I contemplated their once-intended potential meaning. It would be unfair to disclose their contents here since I am not the one who created them. So instead I'll say this: sometimes, I think I'm the one who blew it. Two years ago. When he gave these to me. And if I did blow it, I don't know that I have the chance to regain what maybe might have been lost.

For several minutes, I was pissed. I wanted to throw stuff off my desk and storm out of the room. Then I wanted to cry. Then I wanted to smoke. And then I realized I wasn't going to have time to finish, process, write, and then do the other things on my to-do list. So I calmed down.

If this all seems a tad over-dramatic, well, that's correct. These are the moments I wanted to avoid when I was avoiding the boxes. There are more of these moments ahead.

For now, though, I'll skip the workout, buy some cigarettes, take a flask with me on the freeway, and smile when I see him.

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