Sometimes I just re-purpose things. Like my old 1997-era word processor, that’s been boxed up since the late 90s? It’s a table now. Once upon a time, I needed something to put stuff on, so I threw a tapestry over top of it and voila! A place for my crap.
The Christmas tree is on top of the box-table.
See, back when I escaped from the Ex in 1997, I felt the need to start writing again. The problem was that I didn't know the first thing about computers and had never even seen a Windows screen or the Internet. So I bought this word processor, which was basically a typewriter with a CRT-screen.
The unit had zero memory; you had to save all your work to floppy disks. But you could write and edit on-screen, which was just a huge benefit for me. You could also do rudimentary spreadsheets. Then you’d press
and your document would automatically type itself. And I don’t mean with an inkjet printer… I
mean a real typewriter would type out your document like one of those old
I used it for a couple of years, until after I started working at my present job, and learned how to use a Windows-based PC with a mouse. When I bought my first PC in 1999, the old word processor became expendable. And a table.
Pinky finally got tired of the thing being in the way and decided we needed to get rid of it. Not wanting to clutter up a landfill with it, I wanted it donated or recycled. I was really leaning toward “recycled,” because I couldn't imagine a situation where a charitable organization would be able to use this thing. I mean, I've read that they won’t even take Windows 98 PCs any more. Just to be a hell of a guy, I included a handful of unused floppy disks.
Somehow, though, Pinky managed to get the Salvation Army to come out and pick it up, along with an old spare VCR I have. (She was sick of looking at that too.) I think what she told them on the phone was that I had a computer and a DVR. She scheduled them to come out last Saturday, sometime between 10 and 3. Or maybe she told them about the floppy disks.
Since they were making the trip, I figured I might as well go through my clothes as well. Heaven knows I could use some room in my closets. So I put on my miner’s helmet and ventured into the depths of my closets, in search of donation-worthy clothing.
The stuff I pulled out generally fell into two categories:
1) Stuff that was so ugly I will never, ever wear it again. Example: this sweatsuit combo.
Back around 1987 or so, my luggage was stolen from the carousel when I was coming back to Cleveland from my parents’ place, and one of the items I lost was my favorite sweatsuit. I think someone got me this monstrosity as a replacement, and I might have only worn it once or twice, ever. And even so, I still had the fucking thing in my closet. I tried it on, just for shits and giggles, and it still fit. (It had a LOT of elastic.) For a moment, I thought to myself, “How can I throw this out? I can still wear it around the house.”
Then I moved, like, a millimeter, and I remembered why I never wore it. It was made out of “parachute pants” material, so every time I moved, it would sound like I’m wearing wax paper. The people upstairs would be able to hear me moving around the room, like someone was sanding the floor.
2) Stuff that I can no longer cram myself into and am unlikely to ever again. Example: my Steelers Zubaz pants.
I didn't care that they were ugly… that was kind of the point. I used to wear these back in the mid-90s, but I remember that they were a mojo death wish. I think the last time I had them on, the Steelers lost Super Bowl XXX, and I never wore them again.
Then last year, while the Steelers were in a losing streak, I though maybe I’d give them a try, and work on some “Reverse Mojo.” Problem was that I could barely get them up one leg, let alone over my big ass. So, out with the Zubaz.
While I was at it, I considered donating my Steelers boxer shorts for the same reason: bad mojo and inability to squeeze into them without cramping “the boys.” But I ended up keeping them, just so I can continue to say that I own Steelers boxer shorts.
All told, I assembled four garbage bags worth of clothing to donate. (They were folded, too, for space-saving reasons, not just wadded up.)
It would have been even more, but I still have a wardrobe moving box full of stuff buried in Pinky’s room. I haven’t opened that box for years now. Another couple of years, and I can use it as a fashion time capsule… “What NOT to Wear: The 1998 Edition!”
So after all that fuss, and looking out the window for the Salvation Army truck, they ended up calling me around a quarter to three, to say they couldn't come that day. I rescheduled for Thursday, but I’m still pretty irritated about it. Just for that, I should include my “Heathen” tee shirt, just to show that I am beyond Salvation.
And I’ll have to make sure they know I have a strict No Returns policy.