Two Tons of Fun.

The weekend before I left for Biloxi, I carted years of accumulated debris from my house to the dump in a U-Haul truck. According to the scales, two tons of junk. This did three things:

  1. It cleared up a lot of space. This space was promptly filled with other junk for future trips. It's a start, but the job will likely never be complete.
  2. It made me hurt. Moving that much weight was probably a bad idea, but as I won't return before the snow flies, waiting would have meant that stuff would have sat around until spring or summer, when hopefully I will be on round two. I paid for it, and spent a good bit of time in bed waiting for my shoulder to stop screaming at me. My doctor would not be pleased.
  3. It made me a little depressed. While a lot of it represented junk I just never figured out how to get rid of, some of it was hoarded stuff that I once saw as "valuable" but now realize has no actual value to anyone anymore. It was just taking up space. Some of it was outdated. Some of it was worn out. Some of it was from pursuits I don't take part in anymore. Most of it represented a large sum of cash spent over many years that will be covered over with dirt and examined in 3,000 years by an advanced culture yearning to comprehend why mankind ever thought CB radios were cool. That money could have been saved for the future. It could have gone towards something of lasting value. It could have gone towards a vacation or any number of other experiences. Instead, it's going in a landfill.
I'm slowly clearing out the junk, but for a consumer like me, this is a slow process. Part of it is taking stock and deciding who I am and what I want to be when I grow up, then jettisoning the stuff that doesn't support those goals. Some goes to friends, some goes up for sale, and some, unfortunately, goes to the dump.
 

The dump trip did make me feel like I accomplished something, like I was finally acting like an adult. I still have far too much, and far too much of it I don't need or use. Minimalistic is not how I would describe my lifestyle, but I'm working on it.
 

I'm working on it.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Luke Simpson

Image
A couple years ago I participated in a stage race and had the honor to meet Saul Raisin, the former professional cyclist that suffered a debilitating traumatic brain injury during a race in Europe. As I listened to him speak and later read his book about his recovery, I (probably like most people) had two thoughts:                 “What an inspiring story.” …and more callously,                 “Wow, sucked to be him.” The second thought was just a result of thinking it would never happen to me. If you run the odds, it just doesn’t factor into the threat matrix as prominently as teenage girls with cell phones or that sketchy Cat 5 on the brand-new Madone. Then I got my bell rung. I’ve seen my share of stars and cartoon tweety birds over the years, but this was the first time I was knocked unconscious and woke up in an ER. Another driver’s moment of inattention resulted in a totaled car and weeks of disorientation, speech delays, and random face plants. It didn’t occu
Read more

Narrowed Focus

OK, here's the fun part.   You're clinging to the wheel in front of you. Doing everything to stay in contact, because you know in the deepest parts of your soul that if a gap opens, you will never close it, and you will be adrift. That few inches of space is your whole purpose in life.   People wait their whole lives to see the scenery on either side of you, but you're too busy focusing on meaningless points up the road. You're hoping that by acknowledging them that they will somehow help you climb this hill. They don't, because they're inanimate objects like signposts and rocks. Selfish bastards.   You match cadence with the guy in front of you, promising yourself that every time their right foot comes down, your right foot will come down. That you won't stand unless they stand. That you will be every bit as strong as they are, even if you aren't.   The steady ache in your thighs keeps building. You know all you have to do to make it stop is to
Read more

Perhaps Where I need to Be.

  The last time I was in Biloxi was in November of 2016. I was recovering from a broken collar bone, but otherwise was relatively fit, lean, and getting fitter and leaner. Because I had nothing else to do and energy to burn, I rode a lot. It was wasted effort that translated into burnout during the trainer season, but I really didn't care. I hadn't been riding at all. A handful of road rides before the season ended. A couple fat bike rides when the trails near my house were packed well. Mostly I've hiked, cross-country skied, and sat on my fat ass. Primarily the latter. I knew I was going to be spending the month of February in Biloxi. I swore I was going to get back on the trainer in preparation, but I never did. I came in cold. I packed all sorts of warmers and raingear and stuff that I have yet to use.I forgot all sorts of tools. My tires were excessively worn and my tubes weren't in great shape either. I ended up buying new ones after a horrible first ride led to 4
Read more