I’m in the process of clearing out my house, and I bought garbage bags to make it easier. All day, I’ve been like “God what the hell do I have in my drawers that smells like perfume?”
Turns out I bought scented garbage bags. I hate scented things, and I’m not even sure how I did this, but it makes it easier to get it out of the house. I apologize ahead of time to the people at the SA.
Anyway, let’s talk about books. What do we do with them? I have TONS of books. I’ve re-read many of them, but I think it’s time to let them go. Tomorrow, I’m going to put them in these scented garbage bags and take them to a local shelter or something. Otherwise, they’re going in the garbage. I’m sorry I’m doing it, but they’ve become too much stuff. It’s nothing against those authors (there are a lot of books I’m keeping) so much as it’s stuff that has to go. I have a tiny attention span lately when it’s not baseball, so I moved on.
I started on my dresser because I’m not taking those books anywhere today. Thong underwear I don’t think I ever wore (I’ve never really cared about panty lines – I wear underwear, so deal with it), mismatched socks (some of them go to this drawer to die, but WHERE DO THEY GO – seriously I wonder about this), socks I’ve never worn, pantyhose I used to wear. GONE. So I go on to the next drawer, full of sweaters I once loved and will never wear again because I’m getting rid of them.
And he grabs my arm and tells me to stop yelling. That nobody cares. I’m fighting against him, but he’s pulling my skirt up and laughing.
“You know you want it bitch, shut up.”
I don’t want it, but I do what I can to fight before I give up and pray this is over soon.
“You know you want a piece of this.”
God no, and I’m fighting again because I asked for help but this isn’t help, this is a nightmare, and please just let it be over soon.
I look up, the room is still dark.
CHIRRRRRRP and something hits my arm.
It’s a milk ring.
It’s twenty plus years ago, and it’s like it was yesterday.