yes, I too carry all too much and not willingly often, but our lives are what they are as we make our way... and humor must be seen or, well...the alternative is all too painful and I hope, hope to share hope and hold onto it as well... ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once more, I am trying to rid myself of this garbage. Empty this old black tote bag, again too full of all I can’t seem to throw out once and for all. God! I wish someone would steal this stuff. Dump it where it can’t be found. Crammed with old paperbacks and dried out pens; some loose, lonely pennies (keep those, if they’d like) and notebooks full of nothing new. Ancient scribblings—nothing but junk, just… junk. How long has it been? Every time I do this, I end up with more of the same and my shoulder is weary from the worn strap and I am weary from carrying my life around in this damned old thing. I do, at least return the Library books, and oddly enough, always on time— though always renewed, usually twice— and left out of the damned heavy old sack while in use. (Thank God for small favors.) This time? This time I am closing my eyes and flinging it all away, heaving it into that big green trash bin out there on pick-up day. It’s the only way. Though I wish I had a fireplace to burn it all through and through, knowing that way, it will all be gone for good. The bag, itself? Can’t. Knowing it is needed for the next era in the life of an aging madwoman— empty without something to hold, even if only a few bits of lint stuck and clinging to the stained, worn lining of the black hole she’s desperately trying to crawl out of…             ~~~~~