cleaning with my camera
A couple years ago, when the reality show Hoarders first aired, I got one of the “now, I’m serious” calls from Kate. Other friends tell me they’ve received similar messages. The bottom line, and I paraphrase only slightly: “DO NOT leave a lot of crap around for me to deal with after you’re gone.”
Well, I wasn’t planning on being “gone” any time soon, but point taken. 😉
So, I’ve been cleaning. Down-sizing. Separating the wheat from the chaff, the sheep from the goats and the “over” from the “flow.” I’ve even ripped the packing tape off boxes secured at the end of a relationship in 1997 that have not seen the light of day since. And I’ve come to terms with the “emotional pack-rat” label I heard one psych-type deliver in some self-help show somewhere.
That be me.
It’s not the Pound Purry cat I hate tossing into the ARC box. It’s the memory of Kate lining up her “babies,” very much the way Lily does now. It’s not the seldom-used Emeril LaGasse cookbook I mind donating to the so-great Jefferson County Library. It’s remembering how I found it in New Orleans on a much-in-love vacation that was start-to-finish fun. And it’s not trashing the deflated plastic Santa from Uncle Tom or the recycled dish-detergent Easter basket from Aunt Elma that makes me cry. It’s realizing what a rich kid I was when it came to first-circle relationships.
My camera has proved my salvation.
So, if you ever want proof that Kate was voted “Most Likely to Win a Nobel Prize for Literature” by the Rangeview Class of 2002, I got it. Should you want to know that Trevor-next-door gave her a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle valentine in the first grade, it’s up top, here. So far, I’ve digitized a couple decades of trash and treasures.
Feeling lighter already. 😉