What a day. No fireworks, no bells tolling joyous peals mark this day.  One doesn’t receive medals for tidying up, tossing out items that should been pitched months ago. I feel like I deserve such accolades. I recycled my empty Altoids tins, my John McCann’s Steel-Cut Oatmeal canisters. As functional as they are, steel, with a snug-fitting lid, they continue to be made, and are not at risk of obsolescence.  Yet why have I saved three, with nothing to put in them?

I have little piles of charitable solicitation letters complete with cheesy greeting cards, calendars, return address labels. Maybe folks, I will send you some dough, when I get some extra money.  Your causes have merit.

I replaced an anemic basket, holding my Red Delicious apples, Bartlett pears, yellow Cavendish bananas, Roma tomatoes, and a Vidalia onion, with a larger one capable of holding all of the produce.

These nagging little chores have a psychological reward greater than the tasks. I’m just a little bit less attached to my stuff.

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