I have a horrible addiction. I cannot pass a pile of trash without slowing the car and craning my neck. My heartrate goes up, my breathing shallows and that 'little kid on Christmas eve' feeling comes over me. Oh, the anticipation! Will I find something with incredible potential? A great piece of furniture? Color? Texture? Shape? Character ? The first Barbie Mattel made...still in the box? Admittedly the Barbie would be a nice find, but the addiction is not for riches....it is for POTENTIAL. POSSIBILITIES. The moment when I can make something to which people will respond, "You got that out of the TRASH?! OMG! Thats awesome!"
I have to assume I come by this affliction through genetics. As a kid I remember riding along in the backseat of the family car...probably aggravating my brother in some way only a big sister can, when suddenly I would hear those awful words--"Bill!!! Stop the car! There's TRASH back there! Turn around! Turn around!" Talk about humiliating your pre-teen daughter! I would slink down in the backseat and PRAY that no one who knew us would see our car or my PARENTS digging through TRASH.
That was back in the sixties. Fast forward to 2008. Both my parents are gone now. I HAVE TAKEN UP THE REINS. Only now I live in an apartment and the trash is all consolidated to this one area in the back. Not the GARBAGE, mind you. The TRASH. (there ARE certain STANDARDS to maintain, after all!). Whenever someone moves out and leaves STUFF behind, the 'guys' drag it to that glorious treasure corner at the back of the complex.
Enter, Shirley.
So...my latest temptation is pictured above. It has been there for a week. I am fighting it. I-AM-FIGHTING-IT!!! I mean, I am in a 720 sq ft apartment that is already full of furniture and STUFF. I have NO room for it, don't need it and frankly I don't want to climb over the other ca-ca to get it outta there. What on earth could I possibly DO with a PURPLE WICKER LOVESEAT? NO! NO! a thousand times NO!
hmmmmm.............I wonder if my girlfriend could use it?
I have to assume I come by this affliction through genetics. As a kid I remember riding along in the backseat of the family car...probably aggravating my brother in some way only a big sister can, when suddenly I would hear those awful words--"Bill!!! Stop the car! There's TRASH back there! Turn around! Turn around!" Talk about humiliating your pre-teen daughter! I would slink down in the backseat and PRAY that no one who knew us would see our car or my PARENTS digging through TRASH.
That was back in the sixties. Fast forward to 2008. Both my parents are gone now. I HAVE TAKEN UP THE REINS. Only now I live in an apartment and the trash is all consolidated to this one area in the back. Not the GARBAGE, mind you. The TRASH. (there ARE certain STANDARDS to maintain, after all!). Whenever someone moves out and leaves STUFF behind, the 'guys' drag it to that glorious treasure corner at the back of the complex.
Enter, Shirley.
So...my latest temptation is pictured above. It has been there for a week. I am fighting it. I-AM-FIGHTING-IT!!! I mean, I am in a 720 sq ft apartment that is already full of furniture and STUFF. I have NO room for it, don't need it and frankly I don't want to climb over the other ca-ca to get it outta there. What on earth could I possibly DO with a PURPLE WICKER LOVESEAT? NO! NO! a thousand times NO!
hmmmmm.............I wonder if my girlfriend could use it?
:::::sigh:::::
: D
3 comments:
hi
hello
how was your day?
i liked your blog
you are fantastic!!!
really nice blog
fabulous fantastic
bye
take care
see you
lovley to read you especially today when its raining so much outsite, take care and thank you
Hey Shirl,
Seems I have been in this head for a while now...I see nothing wrong with a good garbage trail run. I have it too you know...LOL I got it from my dad.
In fact Shirl I love the whole page lets me see inside a person I have had in my heart for years.
I love you sweetie,
Gordon
P.S. Say one of those feeling ones for me too...
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