"I'm going out of my mind," said Karyn when she called me Saturday. Karyn is a girl half my age who helps me out from time to time, running errands for me when work traps me in my house for weeks on end. Or just when I'm feeling especially lazy. Her boyfriend was out of town last weekend, and she was bored. "Do you have anything for me to do?"
Given the magnificent slate of football games I had ahead of me...no miss, thank you, but I don't want you here. "Can I watch football with you, then? You'll have to explain what's going on."
This was even worse.
I said I supposed she could tackle the guest room closet. It was 80% crap that had accumulated over my 11 years here. And thus did she take notes while I designated what was crap destined for the dump.
"Here's Maddie's mom's clock radio. That's junk. Here's Kate's espresso maker. That's junk too. Why do I have coffee filters here? (Drew a blank. I don't know whose those were.) Here's a teapot I got for Allie. Shitcan it. Here's a portrait Sarah drew. Junk it. Here's the camera Pam brought me back from Singapore. Junk. The hell is this? Amy's blouse? Eeesh. Junk it. Here's notes from Khristi. Chuck 'em..."
And so it went, us sifting through my relationship debris. Eventually, a numb Karyn drifted outside on the balcony, where I heard her call her boyfriend on her cell. "I just called to say I love you."