Roasted

I have told you before that my father is a bit of a packrat. He tends to keep things hanging around for far longer than is necessary, long after the point when I or my mother would have tossed things.

Well, I fought back and I've won already without even trying. Let's just say that his mess under the desk has gone up in flames. No salvage possible-the woodstove is merrily chewing it all into ash as I speak.

He's probably going to be mad at me, but he'll live. I saved all the valuable stuff and tossed the things I thought were no longer needed-endless unopened letters from the Audubon society and the Sierra Club, several piles of credit card bills, bank statements, receipts for car parts, Christmas cards from relatives from four years ago that Dad never even bothered to open.

I kept a couple of maps, a deck of cards, property tax receipts...stuff I would keep if it were my stuff.

But it isn't and he's lost this battle and he can scream and cry all he wants but there is no returning his crap from the pit of flames.

Good thing I won't be here to do this again. Once was bad enough. And I have yet to see his face when he finds out all his stuff is long gone.

Ta,
Bec