Kayla left a comment on yesterday's post, in which she confessed to the world that she had been lugging a bag of clothes in the trunk of her car for over a year now.
Just as I was thinking "Sheesh! Over a year?" I remembered the bags of personal papers that have been in my trunk since I moved on the first of January. I haven't done anything with them, because I'm at a loss as to what that would be. These are documents I've been moving from one house to another since 1979: closing papers on every house I've ever bought or sold, cancelled checks--back when there actually were such things, ancient tax returns, insurance documents. They weigh on me as do Marley's earthly sins, and they are every bit as difficult to shed.
There are several small bags--far too many to feed 5 and 6 sheets at a time into the shredder. There simply is no safe place to dispose of several reams of personal information without the substantial risk of seeing them resurface all over the internets.
So they are trapped, for the time being, in the trunk of my car, waiting for a surprise visit from the important document fairy--that helpful soul who has spirited away my birth certificate, my divorce decrees, last years' tax returns, and the password to my home wireless setup.
Today's post was written while listening to Buddy Guy's 1993 CD, Feels Like Rain.
Just as I was thinking "Sheesh! Over a year?" I remembered the bags of personal papers that have been in my trunk since I moved on the first of January. I haven't done anything with them, because I'm at a loss as to what that would be. These are documents I've been moving from one house to another since 1979: closing papers on every house I've ever bought or sold, cancelled checks--back when there actually were such things, ancient tax returns, insurance documents. They weigh on me as do Marley's earthly sins, and they are every bit as difficult to shed.
There are several small bags--far too many to feed 5 and 6 sheets at a time into the shredder. There simply is no safe place to dispose of several reams of personal information without the substantial risk of seeing them resurface all over the internets.
So they are trapped, for the time being, in the trunk of my car, waiting for a surprise visit from the important document fairy--that helpful soul who has spirited away my birth certificate, my divorce decrees, last years' tax returns, and the password to my home wireless setup.
Today's post was written while listening to Buddy Guy's 1993 CD, Feels Like Rain.
1 comment:
LOL! You're right, my dirty little secret is out! Believe it or not I'm actually kind of a neat freak, but my trunk has become a black hole of sorts. I also have an unopened sleeping bag, a retired handbag, about 7 UT Longhorns rain ponchos, a random pair of shoes and a tool kit. Basically if I am ever stranded I'll have all the neccesities PLUS plenty of dirty, crumpled outfits to use as a pillow. :)
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