An unpleasant topic today, but one not uncommon among men and women of a certain age. I’ll admit it; my drawers are filthy; and I mean beyond a place to hold my junk. To tell the truth, they are filled with crap. Surely I am not alone in promising time and again to clean it up, but the mess stays there getting bigger and bigger until our relatives and partners are close to signing us up to appear on the Hoarders.
It is not a crime to have a catch-all drawer or closet (or room), but one must realize the limits and start digging in and tossing out. And so I did last week. First, I decided to make three piles: KEEP, THROW and TBD (To Be Decided) and then, with grit and determination, I started.
Several mysterious keys, maybe I’ll remember – keep; ball pens, some working – keep; Japanese vocabulary lists, will learn later – keep; rubber bands and paper clips, you never know – keep; old Ralphs coupons, expired – out; lots of foreign coins, will return – keep; “Come to Jesus” love donation envelope – out; unused birthday cards, only slightly crumpled – keep; two watches, probably just need batteries – keep; final warning notice (Oh, so that’s why) – out; box of screws and a hammer – keep; two remotes for something, maybe important – keep. And so it went. When I finished, I had about 10 percent out, 60 percent keep and 30 percent TBD. All in all, a good afternoon. Time diligently spent on the closet will be equally productive; probably tomorrow.
I heartily recommend you do the same for two reasons: one, it will silence the naggers and two, you’ll have all that new space to fill.
Time for a companion?
A large percentage of my gay and lesbian friends are devoted to their animal companions – that is the correct term now for those that live with us and swim, fly, walk on four legs or slither; partners excluded. I am always impressed with the mutual pleasure and love between the parties. Unfortunately, my visits to the happy households have occasioned several unpleasant encounters. I remember my cousin’s huge, vicious parrot, “Don’t worry. The bleeding will stop soon and it’s your fault for getting near him. He doesn’t like men.” And my Tokyo landlady’s, expensive piranha, “Why you put finger in water? I told you he plana! He plana!” Or, my Arizona buddy’s razor-clawed iguana, “Oh, go ahead. Let him crawl up and sit in your lap if he wants to.” Clearly, I have invariably brought the troubles on myself. Other times I just couldn’t take to the companion. There is the giant turtle in Palm Springs who moves 10 feet an hour, if excited. Also, a Maine neighbor’s pair of cute skunks which are fixed, but still have an “aura.” And my colleague in Tokyo whose tiny apartment only has room for an ant farm, “Wait until you get to know them.” (Talk about a sad case!) I think about this as I contemplate acquiring (not “buying”) a companion, but then there is the neutering, de-clawing, tail and ear clipping, fang and voice box removal (Kidding! Just seeing if you were paying attention). Unfortunately, my lease allows only cats. And cats are either the loving, pet-able type or the eat, poop and don’t-touch-me type which live to be 20. You don’t know which you’ve got until they have moved in and taken over. What a gamble. Maybe I’ll settle for a couple of clams.
