What A Dump

So, I'm a bit sad right now. The garage sale went well, pictorial to come. After it was over we piled all the leftovers and our rubbish into the car (we've been doing major cleanup around here) and headed off to the local rubbish tip. What a putrid place. When we got back home I felt like listening to a spot of PJ Harvey for some reason and went to get the CD out of this bag I'd brought home from work yesterday. We'd sat the bag in a safe spot since people would be coming into our living room to check out the lounges for sale (which noone bloody bought, incidentally). But guess what? No bag!

We spent the next half hour going through every bloody room in the entire house, looking for this bag. I even emptied the contents of our chockers garbage bin, which reeked from half a can of coconut milk that I dumped in there after a failed attempt at green curry. No bag.

So we drove half an hour out to that goddamn stinky tip again, and went looking for the bag amongst the car load of rubbish we'd dumped there two hours before. But of course, about 100 people had also dumped their rubbish, and those nasty bulldozer looking things had pushed the rubbish back further leaving us no hope of locating this bag whatsoever, despite a gallant garbage guy offering to wade a few metres deep and have a closer look for me.

We don't know if someone accidentally added this bag to the pile of rubbish, or if some sneaky person stole it while we were showing people the couches. Either way, I am upset. It basically contained all the things I cleared out of my desk at work yesterday. Some novels to read for my holidays, some work papers to look over, my brand new swanky 2001 diary with scores of notes taken for various projects, 4 CDs – my precious Gomez Liquid Skin, the PJ Harvey, Coldplay and John Coltrane A Love Supreme… AND the killer… MY PALM!

Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaah my little baby Palm! You may remember months and months ago I was obsessed with having one, and finally scraped up the money, became very broke for a long while, and subsequently transferred every fucking vital piece of information imaginable into it. Addresses, numbers, passwords, notes, funny pictures, story ideas, and not to mention my Space Invaders!

So I am sad. I am grumpy. I know it's just stuff but it's MY stuff! And stuff that I could not even begin to afford to replace right now. And there is SO much in that little Palm. Creepy to think of someone looking at that. Pah. My only relief is that I am so obsessed with taking pictures that I had my camera in my pocket and not in that bag. But still, I feel kinda sick inside though. If someone stole it, how could I be so stupid? And if it's rotting away at the tip with dirty nappies and grass clippings, how could I be so stupid?


It's in there somewhere!

About Shauna Reid

Ahoy there! I’m an author, copywriter and old school blogger. I love telling stories about life and helping my clients to tell theirs. Find out more about me and how we can work together.

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