bulk trash week

I was out on the back porch, smoking a cigarette (actually, I smoked two, we smokers need to be honest about our addiction and such a marvelous spring afternoon demanded a two cigarette break) and saw four pick up trucks with stuff in the back, cruising down Cornwall Avenue real slow.

It's bulk trash season in Cheshire, which brings out the bulk trash collectors in droves. Cheshire is, I suppose, a tad more upscale than I think of it, and some people's bulk trash is another person's treasure.

I'm going to clean out our basement tomorrow. There are at least half-a-dozen bikes from our children's history down there and two push mowers (Bern used her brother's Amazon gift card to get a new push mower--I'm so dim that I didn't know you could get anything but books from Amazon....) And lawn furniture to die for and at least three Webber grills and lots of other stuff that is 'trash' to us and my make another person's day.

I missed this morning's breakfast with the Cluster's officers to plan the Cluster Council meeting on Tuesday. I got up, walked the dog, had breakfast and then Jean called me on our land line (I had no idea where my cell phone was) to make sure I was ok. I felt like an idiot. It was on my calendar on my computer but I seldom turn my computer on before early afternoon and I plum forgot about the breakfast. What an idiot.

I could blame it on the Saturday being the wrong one since we put off the Cluster Council meeting a week to let people see the UConn women win it all. But that won't fly. The truth is, I am so good at being retired that I seldom know what day it is prior to lunch since most all days are mine to spend as I wish. I set my alarm on Monday night and Saturday night so I can go to my clericus meeting on Tuesday and make it to church on Sunday. Other than that, I sleep until I wake up and don't worry about what day it is at all.

If I had set my clock, I would have gone to Durham and been there, but, in the midst of a book I really loved, I forgot when I got into bed.

What an idiot of the first degree.

It's the second time I've forgotten about a 'officers' breakfast'. I have no excuse whatsoever. And, for today, I feel like a total and irredeemable idiot. The problem is, for me, that my ego is about the size of Montana and the two Dakotas combined and by tomorrow, I won't feel guilty anymore.

One of my mantras is this: "guilt goes away...."

I'm not sure that's true for many people, but it is for me. That capacity to simply let go of guilt may be a good thing for me in lots of ways. But I'm not sure it ultimately is good. Seems to me Jews and Roman Catholics are lots better than me at sustaining guilt....

I need to ponder guilt and why it is so easy for me to let it go. I apologize profusely and simply assume forgiveness. Maybe I should try to make myself get more deeply into the occasional guilt I feel (I really don't do much of anything I should feel guilty about--besides forgetting meetings) or perhaps I could do a cottage industry in teaching people how to let guilt go.

Give me some time to ponder all this.

And if you want some bikes that are basically sound but need new tires, or a push mower or two...cruise down Cornwall Avenue on Monday.....