Well, I threw away my lint ball today. Really.
Yes, I have—had—a lint ball. I’d been collecting lint since learning—at some manic point in the past, during one of my many minor obsessions—that one could make paper out of dryer lint. I mean—hell—some people make sculpture out of lint, so maybe I could eventually, you know, make some paper. So I started saving for the magical day when I was going to make dryer lint paper; and I guess I’ve been saving for three years. But I tossed it in the mind-draining Bassett house moving effort. So I didn’t make the paper.
That was hard to accept, like so many moving moments. A few weeks ago, I tried to purge my file cabinet of “unnecessary things.” Wow, that was anxiety producing. Just like moving. For me the challenge lies in confronting so so many things that are reminders of forgotten passions, imagined yearnings, intended explorations. I’ve got jillions of ’em. I want to do everything. Everything. And I’ve got scraps of this or that for the special occasion, should it arise ever. Hence, the lint.
I like the cartoons where the protagonist has a tiny devil on one shoulder and an angel on the other; Me, I’ve got just one familiar, one who’s only sentence is: “you might need that!” Whether it’s some lint or some running shoe inserts or a box of bolts. Really, these are all things that I have had to ponder—seriously ponder—whether to keep or not.
I guess it’s liberating, too, though. “Okay—he’s liberated by throwing away a ball of lint. Check.” you might be thinking. But mostly it’s the occasional realization that I can come up with more passions and yearnings, and it’s likely some will be even more gratifying than making paper out of lint. So I’ll just continue clearing house and wait for the next truckload.
PS: Fortunately, I found at least one person on the net who cares about lint as much as I (thought I) did. I pass the crown, then…