Saturday, September 15, 2007
Fred is a sentimental type. He doesn't like to throw away things that might have a memory attached. Ok, it's great he still has his tricycle when he was 4 years old, and we have Rush's tricycle when he was 4. Those are all good things to keep. The trouble comes because there is little discrimination over what goes in the attic--so you can't find the good stuff. Most of the items in the attic, should have been carried to the street one Sunday or Wednesday night for pick up the next morning. We pay for that. Olivia's party favors from a 11 year old party she went to? It's there. Rush's 'Spawn' creatures from the lagoon at a time when he was into that? It's there. Fred's old pay stubs from 1978? Yes, I know right where they are.
Could I find what I really wanted after an hours search with a flashlight, practicing my balance beam techniques so I did't need to get the repairman out to fix the ceiling below again? No.
But I did find these old poison bottles I'd collected years ago. So I fold up the drop-down stairs in the closet, and think about sorting the attic another day, a little worried that if our heirs are sorting years from now, they will just toss it all and maybe miss the treasures most special hidden within.