Becoming Angel (Remembering)

So, yesterday I took an entire carload of shit to Goodwill, because I have a personal rule that if I buy or am gifted something new, I have to get rid of something else, because the closet is full and the drawers are stuffed and I’m of that age where most people get me clothes as gifts because what the hell else are they going to get an old fart like me, Xbox?

So I have an entire large trash bag full of shirts, and another full of pants, and another full of sheets and towels and mugs and dishes, plus a quilt, a wool blanket, several throw rugs, and, due to my recent bionic adventures, a brand-new-barely-used walker and a brand-new-barely-used and sterilized-before-donation-I-promise raised portable toilet seat.  The trunk and the back seat of my smallish Toyota were full.

At Goodwill, a nice young man helped me unload my car, and you’d think they’d seen everything, but he seemed impressed at the volume of stuff when it wasn’t tax-deduction deadline, and he says “You sure got a lot of stuff” and I say “Yes” and he says “Did somebody die?” and I stopped and I thought for a second and then answered “Sort of” and the young man looked at me strangely and said “You can’t ‘Sort of’ die, you either do or your don’t.”  And when I didn’t answer he looked up quickly, to see if he offended me somehow, and added “Unless the person became a zombie”.

And I thought about it again for just a second, and then answered him “No, not so much a zombie as an Angel”, and the young man looked vaguely impressed but also vaguely uncomfortable with the entire conversation and went to get me a receipt.

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