There is a box lurking in the boiler room of my office that haunts me.
It's just an ordinary large cardboard box now, not a box of embarrassing 'glamour' shots, or a box of women's 'down there' creams, or a box of various dead relative's bones or anything, it's just a box.
But it's a box containing all the paper and bits and pieces I've accumulated in the past seven years that I've worked for my newspaper that I haven't been able to throw out. And it's bursting at the seams.
I leave on March 22 and somehow I don't think that's going to be enough time to sort through all the stuff in that box and in my desk. I don't want to just throw everything out, what if I need it?
I haven't needed it in seven years, but I know, just as I commit the entire thing to the nice man who does the recycling round our way that I'll remember a vital telephone number sitting in the bottom of the box and it'll be too late. And it'll turn out to be a telephone number that could have made me rich, rich I tells ya, with a perfect figure and a submissive husband, but no, I'll have chucked it in the Green Bin. And with it, my future.
So I think I'm going to have to sit down and leaf through every single bit of paper and message slip to make sure I don't throw away my golden ticket. I dread to think what I'll look like at the end of it; think Tom Hanks in Castaway!
Apart from all the 'getting ready for my new life, e-mailing everyone I've ever talked to as a journalist, cleaning my desk and generally freaking out' life has been pretty tame for me recently, hence the lack of posts. Thanks to everyone who asked about my welfare (well, stamped their foot and pouted 'where are the funny posts').
I also fear that just like Paige over at Blank Paige, I have writers block, or it could just be that I'm actually quite boring and have nothing much to report. Personally I prefer the former, sounds more glamorous doesn't it?
The photos came back of my gorgeous niece's christening and once again my single state was practically beaming back at me from the snaps.
Mammy Dunne didn't help much with her running commentary as she looked at the photos, to whit:
"Oh look now there's the baby and her Mammy...and John and Marie, and Emer and Vern, and Brian and Mary, and Christine and Ivan...oooh and there's you Karen....your dress is nice?"
Yes, did you notice the lack of my significant other in that sentence? It seems everyone at the christening was all loved up and couply and there was me in my "nice dress".
I think I'm just going to have to grin (perhaps gin?) and bear it though, but I sure as hell ain't getting into any more photographs!
Pic:
http://www.pacific-paper-products.com/nss-folder/pictures/box2.jpg
