Spring cleaning has come to Apartment Q!
I've been working on cleaning out the apartment for the past week or so. Partly because Sara and I are hoping to move later this month, and partly in preparation for Passover. (Did you knows it's a mitzvah for Jews to clean their houses before Passover?) It starts this Friday, and my temple is having a congregational seder. I can't wait!
Anyway, I have bags and boxes of stuff to either throw out, recycle, or donate. Last night, I tackled two drawers full of old papers and found that I held onto some very pointless, painfully embarrassing stuff. (Sara says that I'll end up like one of those people on Hoarders. Har har.) I had to look at every page to make sure I wasn't recycling anything I wanted to keep. For example, between several issues of my middle school student newspaper -- What the hell? Why did I save those? -- I found a drawing that my grandfather, whom I never knew, mailed to my dad when he was in the army.
I'm recycling large chunks of journals I kept during middle and high schools. I reread them last night, and it's almost hard to believe that all six members of my family ever lived in one house. It was such a monumentally bad living arrangement. There were several long, angry entries about how Mom believed whatever Adam told her, never wanted to hear my or Sara's side of the story on anything, never disciplined him, and often punished us for things he did. Most of it wasn't an exaggeration. My mom has mellowed a lot in recent years, but when we were kids, the smallest thing would throw her into the worst rages. I walked on eggshells around her (and out of habit, I still do) because I never knew what would set her off.
There was also an angry entry at Christmas one year when I gave Adam a new copy of a book he wanted (purchased at an overprice bookstore, since shopping online didn't exist back then) and he gave me a bag of chocolate-covered peanuts clearly labelled $1. And at least once a year, from middle school up through high school, there was an entry about how I was rereading Watership Down and how much I loved it. It's still my favorite book, and Adam still gives crappy gifts. Some things never change!
Me: [reading a movie magazine] What's method acting?
Sara: It's when actors draw from their personal experiences to convey emotions. James Dean, Marlon Brando, and Shirley Temple were all early pioneers.
Me: [dies laughing]
Anyway, I have bags and boxes of stuff to either throw out, recycle, or donate. Last night, I tackled two drawers full of old papers and found that I held onto some very pointless, painfully embarrassing stuff. (Sara says that I'll end up like one of those people on Hoarders. Har har.) I had to look at every page to make sure I wasn't recycling anything I wanted to keep. For example, between several issues of my middle school student newspaper -- What the hell? Why did I save those? -- I found a drawing that my grandfather, whom I never knew, mailed to my dad when he was in the army.
I'm recycling large chunks of journals I kept during middle and high schools. I reread them last night, and it's almost hard to believe that all six members of my family ever lived in one house. It was such a monumentally bad living arrangement. There were several long, angry entries about how Mom believed whatever Adam told her, never wanted to hear my or Sara's side of the story on anything, never disciplined him, and often punished us for things he did. Most of it wasn't an exaggeration. My mom has mellowed a lot in recent years, but when we were kids, the smallest thing would throw her into the worst rages. I walked on eggshells around her (and out of habit, I still do) because I never knew what would set her off.
There was also an angry entry at Christmas one year when I gave Adam a new copy of a book he wanted (purchased at an overprice bookstore, since shopping online didn't exist back then) and he gave me a bag of chocolate-covered peanuts clearly labelled $1. And at least once a year, from middle school up through high school, there was an entry about how I was rereading Watership Down and how much I loved it. It's still my favorite book, and Adam still gives crappy gifts. Some things never change!
Me: [reading a movie magazine] What's method acting?
Sara: It's when actors draw from their personal experiences to convey emotions. James Dean, Marlon Brando, and Shirley Temple were all early pioneers.
Me: [dies laughing]