GONE, ALL GONE
2 November 2003
It started with an innocent request on my part: Could Walt check the cupboard in my office and see why the sliding doors weren't sliding, which made it impossible to close both sides, and to use one side at all.
At first he thought the problem was that there was too much weight on top of the cupboard (which is, in reality, supposed to be for clothes, not for office supplies), so we removed everything from the top, but the doors still stuck. He tried waxing the tracks, but that didn't help.
He said that he thought he could just unscrew the top, remove the doors, and sand them down a bit.
Then he discovered that the top didn't come off as easily as he originally thought, so he would have to turn the cabinet in its side, which meant, of course,that I had to empty everything out of it. But the prospect of actually being able to use it made it worthwhile. So I removed everything in there.
But you know how these things go. By the time he had it all on its side, I realized that this was my big chance to do the furniture rearranging I wanted to do and actually give myself a usable file cabinet, for the first time in years. (The cabinet drawers have not been able to be opened, because there is another smaller cabinet in front of it).
Naturally in order to switch the file cabinet with the smaller cabinet, that meant I had to empty both.
By the time that was done, I was eyebrow deep in dusty old paperwork, and many spiders had met their end when the cobwebs were disturbed for the first time in so long that many of them had been declared national historic places.
The good thing was that I threw. away. stuff.
Huge chunks of my life in memorabilia have now bit the dust (literally!)
Gone are most of the mementos of Gilbert--from the hard hat he wore during a reconstruction project, to his the slides of photos he took when in the Army, to newspaper articles about his death. Gone. All gone.
Gone are most of the mementos of our foreign students and the kids we sponsored through Christian Children's Fund and Foster Parents Plan. I loved doing both, but we have lost contact with almost all of them, and somehow I just don't care about the souvenirs any more.
Gone is all the stationery from all the medical offices I worked for over the years (most of which no longer exist). I had saved them to use for scratch paper, but I am 61 and I won't live long enough to use them all...they've all been sent to recycling.
Gone are the scripts to plays our kids were in, or that the Lamplighters did. Gone is the draft copy of the book I collaborated on in 1976. Gone is the original copy of Trifles from Tiny Tots, a cookbook I helped put together many years ago.
Gone are all the Lamplighter newsletters, the Davis Community Meals Newsletters, the Davis Diving Club newsletter and the PFLAG newsletters. (I did keep some newsletters I personally wrote, thinking I might use them for journal fodder in the coming weeks.)
Gone are all the memos about Lawsuit appearances, Lawsuit contact lists, and dusty Lawsuit articles (all of which were duplicates of things in scrapbooks I recently gave to Ned anyway).
Gone are stacks and stacks of files that I forced myself to toss in the garbage without checking, on the theory that if I hadn't looked for anything in those files in the past 10+ years, I don't need them.
There is a
bitch lawyer in Idaho who makes snide remarks doubting my ability to actually toss things out when straightening up my office. I offer the following as proof of progress.
Now mind you this does not include the four full garbage bags that I hauled out to the rubbish bin earlier in the week.
Progress has been made.
There is still much to do, but it will be several days before the new computer gets here and I have time to do it. This office is never going to look organized. I lack that organizational gene. But I have come so far from where I was a week ago at this time that I can hardly believe it.