Among wild dogs, the family that preys together stays together.
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I went to the recycle center today. They have a huge metal building there full of things people drop off, from small furniture, kitchen gear, toys and clothing, to books. Anyone can take anything they like.
When Jay was sick, the most amazing thing happened. All three years he was ill, some doctor's office dropped off copies of those huge pharmaceutical reference books, listing all medications, their purpose, dosages, interactions, and side effects, and results of all clinical trials of them. Several times I was able to head off problems using those books. What makes it so very amazing is that after Jay died, the books never appeared again.
I hadn't been in the building in a few years, so I decided to see what they had today. Not to get anything, exactly, but to see what they were accepting these days. I'm getting buried in stuff again, and thought I might load up some dross and drop it off one day soon.
After I arrived at the center I discovered I'd brought all the recyclable paper and cardboard, but had forgotten the two big bags of glass/plastic/metal. Phooey. I visited the building, and left with a stack of hardcover books (new-looking, with dust covers), including
A Reporter's Life - Walter Cronkite
Dating Dead Men - Harley Jane Kozak
Rising Sun - Michael Crichton
The King of Torts - John Grisham
The Age of Turbulence - Alan Greenspan
Clutterwise, this is not helpful. Now I remember why I seldom enter that building.
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