For the Sake of Pete

I'll be honest, I haven't gotten rid of a damn thing yet.  I am a lazy procrastinator (it's a terrible combination, folks).  I do have a pile of stuff earmarked, ready for a new home.  Ten things, as a matter of fact.  I'll add something else to the pile when I get home this evening.  Man, I really need to clean my apartment.

Oh, wait!  That's a lie (not the bit about cleaning my apartment; that shit's for real).  I have officially gotten rid of one thing and it hurt my heart.  Hurt. My. Heart.

Don't ... don't just leave me here.

How tragically sad this this picture?  It looks so lonely in the hallway all ... alone.  Is it only sad to me?  Because I've formed an attachment to it?  Yeah, I can see that.  I bought that little guy when I was in the Air Force, stationed at Ramstein AB in Germany.  It was 1997ish and I was about to move off base into a little basement apartment and needed furnishings.  My friend, Renee, and I went to the Airman's Attic, which is basically Good Will for military folks, and snatched that little guy up for a song.  $15?  $20?  Definitely not more than $20.

But here's the thing, it hasn't aged well.  It's all warped and stained on top.

Meh.

And some years ago the left legs shit the bed, so I had to be very careful not to move it or wiggle it in any way or the whole damn thing would come crashing down.  I tried fixing it once.

Guess I shouldn't quit my day job.

Obviously I didn't put too much effort into it (hammering nails is hard) and I don't know why I never removed the nail, but it's been there for at least five years and wherever that table is now, I bet the nail remains.

Regardless of its rather rough appearance, I found it surprisingly difficult to put it out in the hallway (where all residents put their unwanted belongings; they just ... disappear).

(The belongings, not the residents.)

(Or maybe the residents disappear too.  I really can't say.  The hallways are pretty empty.)

It's not that I wasn't using the little guy; his drawers were crammed with random shit and I had a nice little framed picture on top of him.  But, I live in a one-bedroom apartment and spent a good chunk of time last weekend trying to make space for a new futon so I won't have to share my bed with my sister my sister will have somewhere to sleep this summer, and I realized that I didn't really need that ugly-ass table.

I emptied its drawers (mostly into the trash) and put it by the front door.  Where it sat for three hours.  I'd pick it up, start to carry it outside, only to put it right back down and reconsider my decision.  It's only a table, for Pete's sake.  (I don't think Pete really cares about my table)  But I remember when I bought it.  I remember how exciting it was moving off base.  I remember how much fun Renee and I had in Germany.  I remember all the trips we went on, all the countries we visited.  How much Sauer Apfel we drank.  I don't need the table to hang on to those fantastically happy memories, but it's inextricably tied to that time of my life and sometimes it's just god-damn-shitting hard to let go.

But I did.  I let go.  It is only a table after all.

I threw you up a lot.
A lot.