It has begun. In one corner of the garage. The Big Purge. And this year, I feel a really big purge coming on.
It’s time to get rid of junk. Stuff. What Jim Shea called “clutter” in his column today in the Courant.
It has begun because I have the feeling I need to get it done. I’m feeling ruthless. I need to feel ruthless to throw stuff away. One example today: an old can of car wax. If I’m not feeling ruthless, I might think, “Oh, I’ll use this sooner or later,” and put it back on the shelf. Today my thought was, “Who are you kidding? You’re not gonna wax your car. You hardly even wash the damn thing.”
Car wax gone.
It will get tougher when I reach the clothes closet. (“Gee, I wore this shirt on that great vacation in…”)
And I will need to summon every ounce of ruthlessness when I descend to the basement to separate myself from personal memorabilia that I see only when I descend to the basement to try and throw it out. And fail. Every single year.
Ironically, the easiest items to dispose of are the hardest. Two boxes, full of plaques I’ve received over the years. Some are acknowledgments for charity work or emceeing events. Others are professional awards. Each and every one was appreciated. But with the exception of one plaque we have on display, I’m not a plaque guy.
Still, I have this irrational fear that one day I throw them out, and the next day they’re in someone’s hands. And that someone is thinking, “What an ungrateful S.O.B.”
Look, if that happens and you find them? Just scratch out my name and write in yours. Then have a little awards ceremony for yourself. Congrats!