It has been four days now.
Four days of shifting stuff and sorting through mounds of boxes, papers, drawers and other crap.
I have thrown away crate-loads of software on CDs, five and a quarter and three and a half inch floppies.
I actually found a copy of one of the earliest programs I wrote that was a full suite of stuff for designing cable television systems. I would love to see that again one last time but I don’t have a floppy reader any more. It went in the bin. I felt a bit sad about that.
I have also chucked out a tower PC, a laptop, several keyboards, a nest of mice [computer variety], a coffee machine and there is a sound system that’s next on the list. Before anyone says anything, the tower PC is fucked, the laptop is ancient and is also beyond repair, and all the mice are dead.
I’m taking a few minutes to just sit down and stop the head spinning. To say I was knackered would be a gross understatement. The only thing that keeps me going is the thought of a stiff whiskey or five when I stop for the day. Maybe I should have my snifters first thing in the morning? It would make me less cautious about discarding stuff?
But how am I defying physics, you ask?
Well, there are two huge sacks in the garden, the porch is half full and the living room is almost impassable with piles of stuff that to be kept [I haven’t worked out where it’s to be kept – that’s for another day]. Yet the room is just as cluttered. Somehow I have removed piles of stuff yet the room is still full.
How does that work?