Oy!
The great clean-out continues. Not simply content (or let's be honest, able) to empty the guest room for Josh's impending residence, our purge has expanded to every room in the house including the attic. Last spring I hoped to rid our home of forty bags in forty days, but friends it's going to be more like forty in fourteen, or fifty in ten now that the ball's rolling.
In general, my job has been paper and electronics. I've recycled hundreds of paperback books and filled several boxes to take to shred. It turns out I really don't need my pay stubs from 1999, or much else of the hundred pounds or so of paper that's all set to go. AND, I've finally come to terms with giving up my iBook lap top. Apple is kind enough to contract with a company who will recycle them for free, but first I must wipe the hard drive. With that in mind, I booted it up for one last time this afternoon.
It's only been a few years since our iPad/desktop combo has pretty much made that brushed stainless steel brick obsolete, but I smiled at the desktop photo of the Chesapeake Bay beach in November where Heidi and I stayed ten years ago, and there was a certain reflexive familiarity when my fingers brushed that cool metal touchpad. Scanning through the files to find what I wanted to keep was like opening a time capsule, and when I was distracted for a second, the screen saver started spinning an array of pictures I haven't looked at for years. It was an album of wonderful times in beautiful places with people we love.
Oh, I'll be able to put everything I want on a single flash drive (that's how dated it is), but today I felt a direct connection with the me who used to spend so much screen time staring at that 12 inch display-- the person who wrote every piece for the Northern Virginia Writing Project Summer Institute there, and most of my National Board entries. The online course I use with my students, Write Here Write Now, was largely created with that laptop, and the very first post of this blog was composed on its keyboard.
I know it's only a machine, and one that has been left behind by technological innovation, but I?
I am only human, and parting with this particular object makes me a little sad.
The great clean-out continues. Not simply content (or let's be honest, able) to empty the guest room for Josh's impending residence, our purge has expanded to every room in the house including the attic. Last spring I hoped to rid our home of forty bags in forty days, but friends it's going to be more like forty in fourteen, or fifty in ten now that the ball's rolling.
In general, my job has been paper and electronics. I've recycled hundreds of paperback books and filled several boxes to take to shred. It turns out I really don't need my pay stubs from 1999, or much else of the hundred pounds or so of paper that's all set to go. AND, I've finally come to terms with giving up my iBook lap top. Apple is kind enough to contract with a company who will recycle them for free, but first I must wipe the hard drive. With that in mind, I booted it up for one last time this afternoon.
It's only been a few years since our iPad/desktop combo has pretty much made that brushed stainless steel brick obsolete, but I smiled at the desktop photo of the Chesapeake Bay beach in November where Heidi and I stayed ten years ago, and there was a certain reflexive familiarity when my fingers brushed that cool metal touchpad. Scanning through the files to find what I wanted to keep was like opening a time capsule, and when I was distracted for a second, the screen saver started spinning an array of pictures I haven't looked at for years. It was an album of wonderful times in beautiful places with people we love.
Oh, I'll be able to put everything I want on a single flash drive (that's how dated it is), but today I felt a direct connection with the me who used to spend so much screen time staring at that 12 inch display-- the person who wrote every piece for the Northern Virginia Writing Project Summer Institute there, and most of my National Board entries. The online course I use with my students, Write Here Write Now, was largely created with that laptop, and the very first post of this blog was composed on its keyboard.
I know it's only a machine, and one that has been left behind by technological innovation, but I?
I am only human, and parting with this particular object makes me a little sad.
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