We’re doing a lot to the house right now. New deck, mostly because the last time I replaced the decking the pressure-treated wood I used was treated with the new formula (no formaldehyde, which is good, but 75-80% drop in useful life, not so good). Some new siding, because the squirrels love the taste of our cedar and the comfort of our insulation. I’ve done a little of that myself but my worsening case of gettinolderitis is keeping me off ladders, so we’ll be hiring that out soon.
And new furniture inside. It’s been several decades since we got new couches and chairs and the wear and tear, coupled with the abuse inflicted by our pets, meant it was past time. We’re halfway through the deliveries and should be finished with two new couches and four new chairs by mid-week.
In with the new means out with the old, and our ad on Nextdoor got zero responses. Neither of us are in any kind of shape to be moving furniture, much less hauling it off, so Suzanne contacted Junk-Be-Gone to get the old stuff out of the way so the new stuff could come in.
I was out walking the dogs and missed the action, but according to my wife the two guys had the couch out of the family room and into their truck in very short order. The living room couch was a different story. We’ve remodeled since we bought it and there is no longer a straight path from the outside into the living room. It would have been difficult if not impossible to get the couch out the front door but the kitchen door, opening out onto the deck, was relatively accessible.
Evidently they considered their options for a very short time, went out to their truck, brought in a reciprocating saw, and spent 15 or 20 minutes sawing the couch in half. They carried the halves out to their truck and were gone before I returned.
It took me a minute to process this when Suzanne told me what had happened. My initial reaction was, how could they do that to a perfectly good piece of furniture? Somebody could have used that! What a waste!
Then I remembered the name of their business.
As far as they were concerned, what they were picking up was junk. Not worth spending any time trying to preserve it. What they needed to do was get our stuff out of the house and into the truck so they could go on to their next appointment.
As I have said many times before in a variety of settings, I like being old. I like the perspective, the ability to have the long view of things, a somewhat better recognition of what is and is not important, and retirement is very pleasant. There’s the gettingolderitis to deal with, of course, but there is no gain without loss.
What I’m having a lot of trouble setting aside is the notion that anything that comes into my possession, from a cardboard box to a short piece of perfectly good wood to a couch, needs to be kept just in case I can find a use for it someday. I have to keep reminding myself that the number of somedays I have is limited, and shrinking daily. If I hang on to all this stuff it will just be more for my kids to have to sort through after I’m gone.
I guess I could hang on to the number for Junk-Be-Gone. They’ll probably need it.