What will happen to the framed photo of POTUS and me or the baseball cap Anita bought me at Tahquamenon Falls a few years before she dumped me or the skinny shot glass Dave Dempsey snagged from the airport gift shop on his way home from Ottawa?
What about my shirts and sweaters and shoes? What about the silverware and CDs and pens and power cords that have birthed babies over the years or the bed that Amy and Gary Kohlhepp said I could keep if I moved out of their basement?
What about the toolbox I picked up and stocked years ago and haven’t yet used? What about the machete purchased online from Brasil to protect me from home invaders, or the 9mm handgun that replaced it when I realized I don’t want to get close? What will happen to the thank you cards saved as proof that sometimes I’m nice or the laptop I’m writing this on (my parents’ last gift to me)?
Seems wrong for all this to be landfilled once I’m done.
I don’t have children. Anymore. Few friends and loved ones to speak of – dead mom and dad, a sibling 3,000 miles away who I’ve disappointed by being me, and lots of exes – so the task of sorting through my shit when I’m gone is up for grabs.
I suppose I can contact Habitat for Humanity or a library or shelter or church. No promises though. (I’ve learned they’re meaningless.) I’m okay with the idea that I won’t be remembered but my stuff deserves a better fate.
I’ve got some good books.
I will always remember you. Oh, and I will take your books, machete, and the Dave shot glass. Lol.
ReplyDeleteI'm old, childless, and have few friends. Just yesterday I looked around my cluttered house and thought that I should put a big sign in the yard saying, "Free Stuff. Don't Be Greedy." Then leave the front door wide open and drive away.
ReplyDelete