Like the arrival of birds in Spring, I found signs of the arrival of an unknown number of twenty-somethings, my son and his friends, in the wee hours last night.
Every time I bend over to pick up strange objects from the floor of my home, I wonder if other people are picking up similarly disparate objects off their floors. Or is it just me?
We are all surrounded by the detritus of our lives…but some of us manage it with more ease than others. I am aware of waging a constant war on the stuff…it comes in the mailbox, it comes in with the groceries. It can be found spilling out of soccer bags and second hand bags of clothes that well-meaning friends drop off. I have actually purchased it, and I have also relegated it to the attic. Someone in the house has got it out to use it and not put it back, someone else has misplaced it and never found it again. It gets kicked under the sofa and it lines the edges of the porch. I notice it finally and try to assign it a place, either the garbage bin, or a storage unit of some kind. If it can’t simply go in the garbage bin, I am forced to categorize the object in question: is it food? clothing? sports equipment? craft material? toy? gardening tool? mine? somebody else’s?