The incredible shrinking weasel
I’m not really an atheist. That’s just shorthand. It’s easier than explaining that inexplicable things happen to me, but they don’t seem to emanate from something grand and mighty like the God of Abraham. More like something small and relatively weak. With a rotten sense of humor.
Every turning point in my life bristles with weird coincidence. Like so: I’ve worked for the same company in the same location for almost 25 years. We moved office once in all that time — from one side of the parking lot to the other. So I could reasonably expect to serve out my last few months in a comfortable, familiar environment and stick the next poor bastard with clearing out my junk.
But no. Boss lady has decided we have to pick up stakes and move operations to the home office right now. Exactly one week before I fly to England to help Uncle B move the London house to the new place.
So everywhere I turn there are cardboard boxes and and bags of trash and huge hairy dust bunnies and the painful throwing away of things. I don’t throw away things good. I collect things real good, but every time I throw an object away it nibbles off a little piece of my happiness.
But a twenty year old computer graphics program is worth exactly nothing. Those barrels? Full of them. And the manuals that came with. Thousands and thousands of dollars worth of stuff…back in the day. Now, begone! Geroff! Vamoose!
Ow! Owowow! Boohoo. Shit. Woe is Weasel. Make it stop!
October 9, 2007 — 2:19 pm
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