Anticipating recyclers and good health
Consider it as a sudden, unwelcome distraction. After months of relatively good health, I’ve developed an affinity for tissue paper. The sneeze catching kind. And I’d prefer to go back to the old way of things.
Someone handing the remote control (wrapped in tissue paper) with an invitation to “keep it” serves as a reminder that illness is misunderstood. So are histaminic reactions to influenza vaccine. I know the why. Now to figure out the how (to stop this madness).
Back to normal things. The recyclers are supposed to arrive, later this week. In anticipation, I spent part of the morning removing memory and hard drives. No sense giving away the “good stuff”. All relative. As I erased entries from the “never correct database” (officially listed as the Inventory), it was clear. What was once treasure is now dross.
This changing the clocks thing is silly. I ended up changing the clocks: at home, at work. Somewhere between my disdain for incorrect timepieces and short people, I was the enabler. Climb, realign, descend, move along. And in return, I was able to return home under cover of darkness. Silly.
Back to that recycling exercise. I just uncovered a whole section of desk space that has been piled higher and deeper for weeks. Ephemeral, of course. Stuff breaks. Broken stuff is my responsibility. Ergo, there will be more stuff to take the place. Somewhat newer, but dross. Does recycled stuff get recycled? I can wonder.
And the fax machine that I installed on Friday (actually, a fax, printer and scanner) has settled into its new role.
