We get two free trips to the dump each year. Our 2016 vouchers have been sitting in the glove compartment while un-reusable un-recyclables wait patiently for their turn to leave the house. Although we’ve hauled out bags of tradable books and some clothing to donate fairly recently, we haven’t dealt with the trash. Releasing and recycling things feels light and happy but a shadow of failure clouds the decision to consign anything to the dump
A couple of posts ago I wondered, “Whither next?” as I marked the end of having dispersed the greatest part of the sea of materials left behind by my husband’s first wife. It turns out that both my husband and I have ideas about what to do with the storage space we’ve begun to clear out. The satisfaction in having a plan for the space eases any sadness about heading to the dump.
And it’s already November! We must not waste this year’s dump vouchers!
But I don’t have the final say over what can be dumped or recycled, or what must be saved. My husband, the direct inheritor of this house full of stuff, must make all the final decisions. Until today it’s usually been I who have done the sifting and sorting and suggesting while he comes in at the end to edit or ratify my decisions.
Today was different! Today we sat together while he sifted and sorted then I stowed and stashed. Together, we amassed a dump load; together we selected out a boxful of rummage sale candidates; together we began to assemble a wall full of boxes intended for delivery to his deceased wife’s relatives.
The picture is of a quilt we found at the bottom of a box of forty years stored curtains. It might have belonged to my husband’s mother. Of COURSE we are keeping it!