I worked only about two hours yesterday on clearing out the basement, but I put in over four hours so far today. I got the dumpster (they call it a "roll-off") a hair less than half full today before it got dark, which is scary because I've been working on only about one quarter of the basement, and not even the worst quarter. The dumpster is about 9 feet by 12 feet by 40 inches deep, and I am flattening everything I can before I throw it in. I can't get inside to shift stuff around, so there are some airspaces, but that seems to be minimal. I think I might be able to work a little longer tonight with the outside lights over and under the deck, and if I turn on lights in both bathrooms to shine out the windows.
I'll bet I walked several miles today. Each load I carry runs probably 40 pounds. A lot of it is old math and chemistry textbooks, and those suckers are heavy! Worse, the top edge of the dumpster is at chin level on me, so I have to lift high to heave junk over the side. You're supposed to be able to open the back, but it's on a slight slope toward the back, and I can just see everything sliding out and down the hill, so I didn't make more than a cursory attempt to open it.
I knew pretty much what to expect, but it's even worse than I thought. A three foot high stack of telephone books from Pittsburgh and Dallas, going back to 1975. A 1977 used car price guide. Every math and chemistry textbook he ever used. Every issue of every professional journal and ordinary magazine he ever received. Every listing from every computer program he ever worked on. Every manual for every system he was even remotely acquainted with. And more....
I was aware of two kites, but I found seven more. I threw out two chemistry sets ("no hazardous materials allowed in the dumpster!") on the theory that they were marketed for children, so there was unlikely to be anything too nasty in there. Then I found Jay's REAL chemistry sets! There are four boxes of bottles full of all kinds of nasty stuff. Most of the bottles are labeled on the lids, but one box, full of larger bottles wrapped in ancient brittle newspaper, didn't have visible labels. I unwrapped one bottle to see what it was, and tipped it on its side while unrolling the newspaper, and the cap was loose, and some liquid got on my right fingers. Stupid me. My fingers started to burn, so ... three guesses what I did. Yup. Stupid stupid me stuck my fingers in my mouth. I do know better than that! At about the same time the newspaper came off, and the label said acetic acid. I ran upstairs and ran my hands and mouth under water for a while. The acid must have weakened with age, because I seem to be suffering no ill effects now.
I don't know what I'm going to do with that stuff. I'm going to need someone who knows what it all is and how to dispose of it safely.
If I can't get enough light to fill dumpster tonight, or if it gets too cold, I'll still have plenty to keep me busy flattening all the boxes I emptied over the past month of sorting. I threw out two five-foot stacks of flattened boxes today, and I figure I've got that much more to flatten now that they're empty.
I am going to throw out Jay's skis. They're good skis, but they're locked together with the poles with a virtually indestructible combination lock, and of course, I don't have the combination. (Please, no suggestions. I MUST throw them out, and this is my excuse.) His ski boots, scuba mask and flippers, and lots of other stuff that I don't even know what it is -- already gone, buried under 30-year old textbooks and professional journals.
And I'd like to find the idiot who has given out my phone number as the contact for the Cub Scouts' Pinewood Derby. I'm getting tape-filling messages from people looking for information. I do call them back and tell them they've got the wrong number. I wish they could tell each other and get me out of the loop.
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