Pick up the pieces
My approaching departure brings many things at work. Not least: a direct request to clean out the clutter. Only fair; I wouldn’t want anyone to hand off to me.
The catch is that the clutter doesn’t belong to me, and there is still a (minor) book value. Armloads of laptops. Surplus memory. Hard drives that we’re priceless just a short while ago. My cubicle is close to the door and when people drop off their burden, I share space. No pictures though, until the job is done.
I did receive tacit permission to “use my judgement”. I shall. If I wouldn’t pay retail for something, it will go “under the bus”, so to speak. And when the cubicle is clean a colour photograph will be printed and posted as proof of the accomplishment.
Next will be the Great Purge, in our basement. Merciless, I tell you. And another photograph will prove the point. What took twenty years to gather will be “disappeared” in much less time. I hope the recycling centre is forgiving.
Trying to write during a stereo bark session. Distracting…
This has been another one-finger edit. If I can turn off predictive word suggestions, life would improve. I’m very old school about the creative process. Speaking of old school, I found myself trying to explain cursive writing and the associated methodology to our latest hire. He has never written a multi-page letter using a pen and penmanship. Never will, if current trends continue. That makes me sad; my spirals were things of beauty , in their day.
