Staring down at me from my bulletin board are two neon-colored smiley-faces on poster-board. Both of them have tacks through their eyes, and one of them has a Bully Hill Wine postcard tacked through its forehead. I think the neon-smileys are leftover from time spent with Ken. Gahd knows how they ended up here.
I really ought to throw a lot of things away.
Staring down at me from my bulletin board are a small Mexican flag, a small article from a magazine that quotes Tom Robbins, my "2000!" hat from New Year's Eve, a receipt from the grocery store, a map of Asheville, NC, and a fake tattoo with the Endicott, NY Police Department seal on it.
I really ought to throw a lot of things away.
Staring down at me from my bulletin board are myriads of phone numbers that I either never call or that I know by heart. Numbers scrawled on napkins and haphazardly stuck to the wall.
Staring up at me from my desk is a pile of mail I haven't touched. Bills. Ads. A postcard trying to get me to donate money to starving AID-babies. A card from my grandmother. Some razors. Some email addresses written on scrap paper. The album cover to my Filter CD. Books of matches. A keychain that isn't mine.
It's about damned time I cleaned this place up... Threw away all the peripherals... Threw away all the stupid nostalgic stuff... I don't care about it anymore anyway, not most of it...
But gahd I am tired... I cannot even begin to comprehend the idea of undoing my packrat-nest and throwing it all away... It would take me decades... And I plan to spend the next eight hours sleeping. Oh well.
~Helena*