so lately there has been this experiment going on here at my house of just leaving things hanging about.
about a week ago i was walking out the door, and among the stack of papers i was shuffling through was a print-out of something i didn't need. so i had this weird impulse to just crumple it up and toss it on the landing, and i guess i just figured i'd pick it up when i got home. but for some reason i didn't. i just smiled at it, at myself and my silliness, and left it lying there. and then it became a little game between me and the white crumpled piece of paper on the landing. how many times could i walk by it? how long would it stay? would i keep being amused by it, or would i begin to become annoyed? would this sense of annoyance, if it developed, become motivation to dispose properly of the paper?
now there is also an interesting accumulation of abandoned printed matter on and around the chair on my front porch. first came the telephone books. the ones i don't like. i don't know why they drop them off. it seems invasive. i don't even use the book anymore. i google everything. that was a strange realization to have. all the same, i haven't brought them in, or done anything else with them. i just sort of stare at them, dumbfounded. i don't want them, but i feel wrong somehow, not to want them. i can't just throw them away. i should recycle them i guess. what a waste of paper. my neighbor must be facing a similar dilemma. either that, or she just hasn't noticed they're there, though it hardly seems likely.
i say this because the telephone books have now been joined by another set, and a newspaper covered in a bright orange plastic bag ... for some reason, the local paper has decided to adopt us as recipients of a trial subscription. either that, or somebody is going to start getting really pissed off at the paper boy for not delivering theirs. at any rate, i hate the local rag, and don't or won't read it. sometimes i'll bring one in, like, say, if it's sunday, and i figure i'll at least be able to read doonesbury. i tell myself, well, maybe i'll read it if i get bored one day or something. but then it just sits there, the rest of it, in a great useless pile until i realize that it looks funny to have a two month old paper sitting in the living room. and then i finally toss it.
so knowing all this, i don't even do that anymore. and the one on the porch sits. and sits some more.
also, the junk mail sits in the entry. at our house, the mail comes through a quaint little slot in the front door, so my neighbor and i have devised a system wherein the person who gets home first leaves the mail for the other in a clever little basket. she also leaves the junk mail. how thoughtful. sometimes i leave the same junk mail there ... i guess just because i figure ... well, why should i be the one to have to designate something as junk? but then i get tired of looking at it and i toss it myself.
like i'll probably do with the stuff on the porch.
eventually ....
maybe.
m
about a week ago i was walking out the door, and among the stack of papers i was shuffling through was a print-out of something i didn't need. so i had this weird impulse to just crumple it up and toss it on the landing, and i guess i just figured i'd pick it up when i got home. but for some reason i didn't. i just smiled at it, at myself and my silliness, and left it lying there. and then it became a little game between me and the white crumpled piece of paper on the landing. how many times could i walk by it? how long would it stay? would i keep being amused by it, or would i begin to become annoyed? would this sense of annoyance, if it developed, become motivation to dispose properly of the paper?
now there is also an interesting accumulation of abandoned printed matter on and around the chair on my front porch. first came the telephone books. the ones i don't like. i don't know why they drop them off. it seems invasive. i don't even use the book anymore. i google everything. that was a strange realization to have. all the same, i haven't brought them in, or done anything else with them. i just sort of stare at them, dumbfounded. i don't want them, but i feel wrong somehow, not to want them. i can't just throw them away. i should recycle them i guess. what a waste of paper. my neighbor must be facing a similar dilemma. either that, or she just hasn't noticed they're there, though it hardly seems likely.
i say this because the telephone books have now been joined by another set, and a newspaper covered in a bright orange plastic bag ... for some reason, the local paper has decided to adopt us as recipients of a trial subscription. either that, or somebody is going to start getting really pissed off at the paper boy for not delivering theirs. at any rate, i hate the local rag, and don't or won't read it. sometimes i'll bring one in, like, say, if it's sunday, and i figure i'll at least be able to read doonesbury. i tell myself, well, maybe i'll read it if i get bored one day or something. but then it just sits there, the rest of it, in a great useless pile until i realize that it looks funny to have a two month old paper sitting in the living room. and then i finally toss it.
so knowing all this, i don't even do that anymore. and the one on the porch sits. and sits some more.
also, the junk mail sits in the entry. at our house, the mail comes through a quaint little slot in the front door, so my neighbor and i have devised a system wherein the person who gets home first leaves the mail for the other in a clever little basket. she also leaves the junk mail. how thoughtful. sometimes i leave the same junk mail there ... i guess just because i figure ... well, why should i be the one to have to designate something as junk? but then i get tired of looking at it and i toss it myself.
like i'll probably do with the stuff on the porch.
eventually ....
maybe.
m
Comments
Watch the newspaper thing though, its one of those things that burglars look for.