“Thank you for calling, how may I help you today?”
“I’d like to send flowers to Springfield.”
“Unfortunately, we are unable to deliver to Springfield today. Our Troy location is without power due to damage from Monday night’s tornado.”
“Well, it’s not going to Troy. It’s going to Springfield.”
“Our Troy location is the closest one we have to Springfield, and on a normal day, they would be the ones to take it. But because of that location being out of power, we would be unable to deliver it to Springfield.”
“It’s not going to Troy!”
“I understand that, ma’am. But the closest shop we have to Springfield is in Columbus.”
“Why can’t you just deliver the flowers from Columbus, then?”
“An hour’s drive is too far for our drivers. I hate to send you somewhere else, but we don’t have the option to deliver to Springfield.”
“Wait, why not?”
“Because our Troy location, which is closest to you, is unable to make deliveries today- due to the fact that they are without power, or a roof.”
Decluttering is nice and all, but I literally keep and document random shit I find so that I can confuse a future historian.
Why is this piece of gravel being kept in an ornate box sealed with decorative tape? Is it ritual or is it aesthetic, we just don’t know!
My scrapbook isn’t of photos since most of my pictures are on the Internet, so instead it’s full of random crap I found on the floor. Playing cards, concert tickets, fortune cookie fortunes, packaging I thought looked cool.
Fuck if I know what’s going to make its way into history. Might as well keep weird shit.
Keeping the evangelist pamphlets literally for the sole purpose of being future ‘sacred texts.’
It’s a memory book! My mom had one of those. Although she also copied poems into it, so not quite the same.
I guess you could call it a memory book. I’m just calling it a scrapbook, but ‘scrap’ in a more literal sense. Like thinks that for all rhyme I should have tossed, but decided to keep because they happened to me in some way. And sometimes that memory is ‘my manager gave me an expired scratch-off’ and sometimes that memory is ‘I found this once.’
It’s just… things that I think are neat.
Like those playing cards up there were found on the floor of the lobby one morning after a Purdue v ND game and it’s not really like.. an important memory, it’s just trash. But it’s COOL trash!
I’m planning on putting poems and stuff in my book of shadows and make it all nice. That’s a different project that I’ve had to start and restart a couple times.
Got a whole different book just for greeting cards that people have sent me.
And then there’s the entire separate book dedicated to the pamphlets, which started as a ‘people keep giving these to me, I should really do something with them’ and now it’s turned a teeth-gratingly common experience into a fun pastime.
