Stuff is Nonsense

Well, he finally came over to get the rest of his stuff.  He claims to have it all.  All the CDs, everything he wanted.  He did take away everything I set aside for him, even the crappy Christmas lights I didn't want to look at any more.  For that I am grateful.

On the day,  even though I was on vacation miles away, I was destroying my karma.  I spent an hour reading about accepting, non-grasping, and having patience with those who hurt you.  Then I picked up my journal, and I wrote this:

"I hope he sobs so hard he can't put the tape straight on his pathetic little boxes of stuff.  I hope he picks up something and remembers something I said about it.  Something clever, funny, tender, simple.  Something you don't remember but can never forget.  And I hope his heart breaks."

It's a good thing I don't believe in reincarnation, because I'm sure that little outburst pushed me towards the cockroach scale.  I wrote it out, took a deep breath, did some stretches and had a solid, dreamless night's sleep.

When I got home and started looking around, I saw that he didn't really take everything.  He left this. Dance party in 3 . . . 2. . .  1 . . . .