Clearing the Attic

My attic is now empty.
We spent a whole weekend moving anything of worth to a rented storage unit. Trust me when I say that worth stretches the limits of its definition in this context.
There are primarily three reasons why I won the battle of the attic. Ladies, if this is an issue at your house, here’s my strategy.
-First, it was a safety hazard for workmen. Plus, it was just too embarrassing to have workmen climbing over all that junk to get to the furnace that needs to be replaced.
-Second, it was a safety hazard for me. Let’s face it; I am getting too old to go scrambling up that dreadful ladder every time I need to drag out an old memory. The storage unit a few miles from our house costs a lot less than our medical deductible if I happen to fall. What husband can resist such logical economics!
-On top of everything else, I am pretty sure our attic had become a fire hazard. When we finished, we had twenty boxes of paper to dispose of. I felt vindicated.
Who saves check stubs from the 1980s, for heaven sakes!
Probably the only purpose in saving bank statements from the 80s is to confirm to our future grandchildren that we were a little paranoid. As if our grandchildren are even going to know what bank statements and checks are!
I persuaded my husband that the bank statements could be shredded now. Only it wore out the shredder before we finished. Fortunately, the shredder went in the pile with the other stuff to throw away. That’s the pile with the old appliance packaging, the outdated phones, and other outmoded technology.
Not that I’m bitter or anything. I know there are pack rats out there who far surpass the one I love.
The lady who rented me the unit reminded me that a while back a man’s leg was auctioned off when he failed to pay for his unit. It seems he needed an amputation and just couldn’t part with the leg until he forgot to pay his bill with the storage people.
Are these things really worth saving?
Next, I’m tackling my computer. It is ancient and filled with files marked “Clearing the Attic,” where I’ve been storing ideas. Ironically, while I might not hang on to stuff, I have a really hard time parting with a good idea. This is a byproduct of having zero storage ram in my brain.
Many of those files, like the twenty boxes of paper, just need to be deleted. Unfortunately, it will take hours to sort through them.
This will require me to open and read each file, then, hit the delete button. That seems simple, doesn’t it? The delete button is sort of like a shredder for modern folks, right?
However, I have DRD, Delete Reluctance Disorder. It is a disease that develops when you hit the delete button accidentally one too many times.
It is similar to a disorder people had back in the olden days, SIAD, Store It in the Attic Disorder.

Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, lives life with a Texas twang. Comments are welcome here or at cathykrafve@gmail.com.