LIfe in a post-diskette era
After my attempt to recycle the broken desk to someone with a need, I had to move on to the next level. Into the car, with a collection of empty paint tins and then off to the EcoCentre. Not what I hoped for, but it goes with the territory. Sometimes, junk is just junk. And so began the day.
I need to reclaim space in the basement. Not new space; that won’t pass muster with others. Rather, the area called “the office” which has filled with unsorted books, papers and other stuff. No room to stand, no room to sit. Today, I decided to start a progressive emptying, and filled both dumpster bins. Barely dented the surface, but every hole starts with one shovel full.
The biggest decision involved hundred of diskettes. Gone. Off to the big smoke. I figured that if I hadn’t loaded data from one in years, I could take the risk. There will be others. Diskettes had a funny way of taking over your life, a bit like unlabelled tins in the pantry. More time wondering about what might be “inside” than anything else. Some of them went back about a quarter of a century. Too bad. Next on the agenda: old CD-R disks.
Son #2 is home from his incredibly odyssey. He looks the same, and his (exploded) bicycle seems to have done the job. The breakdown necessary for air travel and transfer back from a distant airport seemed excessive, but no hacksaw was involved. We watched an impromptu slide show (digital makes things easier than the old slides and a projector drill) and got a feel for what life on the “other coast” involves.
