Now That's A Load Of Crap

I know I appear to be a day late on my posting, which then makes me look like a lazy piece of meat that couldn’t stop watching HIMYM reruns long enough to send out a 750-word rant on social media foul-ups.  Don’t judge me just yet though.  I know I actually can be classified as that piece of meat who L-words HIMYM, but I’m going to be altering my schedule just slightly to accommodate for some recent changes that have happened in my life. 

Not like any of you care or anything. 

For full effect…Eh, screw background music, I need to get to the point. 

This past week someone got in touch with me and said they would pay me to write.  Yes, you read that correctly, I am going to be making green stuff just for recording my thoughts on life three or four times a week.  And because of my new responsibilities, I think I’ll be switching my blogposting schedule up to Wednesday nights and Sunday mornings.  Because hey, there is only so much of my creative vocabulary to go around.  Man, I sound like an egotistical bastard this far in. 

Well, I know I got the bastard part right. 

Whew! Now that I’ve got that out, on to the main event.

So I’m homeless.  At least for a week or so.  If you saw the status I posted this afternoon, the one status I’ve posted in the last two and a half years, you know that I now am a proud homeowner.  Go ahead, pat my social media image on the back for that.  Despite the fact that I own a piece of God’s green earth, well, 1400 square feet of God’s green earth to be specific, I can’t enter it until Friday.  And because of that, I’m sleeping on park benches and on the sidelines of Hansen Stadium meanwhile my car acts as a mobile storage unit.  Which, after 331 words brings me to the point of this entire blog.

Why the curse word do we have so much crap in our lives?

And that is not a metaphorical deep thought statement I am making about subconscious fears or mental stumbling blocks or anything stupid like that.  I’m talking about real-life, hard-core physical crap that we don’t need.  Things that are just there, taking up space until Armageddon hits us, sweet motherloads of flat out crap.

Because of my move I had to pack up my old apartment and load everything that I own on to a trailer.  And there were landslides of garbage that I’m never going to use, but I still hold on to all of it because of some emotional tie I have sparking sentimental memories.  You know what I’m talking about.  Just go to your closet and take a gander at the things you’re holding on to that you haven’t picked up since 2008.      

Take for instance my shoe collection.  Don’t call me a woman or anything, but I still own every single pair of basketball shoes I have worn since my freshman year of high school.  We’re talking about shoes since “Mambo No. 5” was the number one hit song.  Every pair from Adidas Crazy 8’s to white trash Starbury’s.  And they are there.  Just sitting in my closet doing nothing but trigger memories  about that one time when I hit that one shot against that one team.  Why do I still have them?  Good freaking question.

The list just got longer as I packed up.  94 different ties? Check.  47 different Ohio State hats? Check.  I have eight different suits.  EIGHT SUITS! I know Barney Stinson wouldn’t be upset, but who needs eight suits?! I have a bottle of sand given to me at my graduation, a blowgun, a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles poster I was gifted when I turned four years old, a cricket bat I carved out at scout camp people, I've got hundreds of Upper Deck basketball cards sitting in a leather trunk with a combined value of $3.47.  What is wrong with me?!

Am I a hoarder? Absolutely not.  Am I going to get rid of any of this?  You can bet your left nut I won’t.  I know all this stuff may fit the definition of pure crap, stuff you should flush down the nearest toilet, but so what?  I am still taking it with me.