Monday, September 17, 2007

End of an Era

The IBM Selectric typewriter is the greatest typing machine every invented! I loved it so much, I kept this one, my second reconditioned one, in my closet, on top of a trunk full of off-season shoes and tops and underneath a pile of jeans. This behemoth lurked there to be lugged out when I needed to change the contents of the trunk. I loved it. The fingers flew on it, everything about it was easy to use -- except lifting and moving. No portable this!

Alas it is gone. Into the garbage. A great, sad shame, I'm sure there is someone in Kurdistan or Uruguay who would be happy to have it. But ... no one here wanted it. Not even as a gift. Sigh ... And I have a superstitious fear that my little iBook and the printer will implode and I'll wish I had it. Why this drastic action when it had done nothing more heinous than take up precious space?

Seems there is a pipe in the wall of the closet that must be replaced. The plumbers need the closet empty tomorrow. Holy-maloey! Can anyone understand the way a fairly decent sized step in closet [it's not quite big enough to be called "walk in"] closet can be crammed by a truly determined, practiced reisident of a NYC apartment? As seen in the picture above I've succeeded after several attacks today, in getting almost everything out but the hanging stuff. That I'm not moving until tomorrow morning because I'll lay it on the sofa and hope things don't get wrinkled in the few [I HOPE!] hours of the plumbing operation.

Of course, I have found all manner of stuff. Some: "why did I keep that?" which went directly into the garbage. Some "I thought I'd use it but I haven't for too long to remember", too good for garbage, so into a thrift shop bag. Some, "Gez, how come I have five overnight tote bags from various travel companies?" Well, they'll come in handy packed with the things to go to thrift shop. Also "do those things secretly mate and multiply on their shelf?" Like what am I doing with so many wash cloths? All that are a little ratty go into the ragbag for scrubbing and cleaning -- if and when, of course.

So it's been a day of work and insight meditation. Yes, I DO need those shoes. I love those shoes. No, those belts no longer bear much relationsihp to my waitline. Which handbags will I really use? If I don't know, do I keep them or get ruthless about discarding? Haven't reached an answer to that. Some of the answers will arise tomorrow when I repack the closet. It's an adenture, living in an old building where, somewhat like the human body remaking all it's cells in the course of seven years, the building's infrastructure is replaced --- loudly and messily, usually -- possibly every five years. And unlike the quiet, unnoticed bodily replacements, the building replacements are a nuisance, always! Sigh ... and it's good-bye forever, old buddy, Selectric.

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