Old Paint Cans

While breaking out the bikes and scooters for our summer fun last weekend, I spotted a bunch of old things in my garage that I was unable to get rid of last year. An old lawn mower, some old wood with nails in it, and some old, rusted paint cans stacked up against the wall. Who takes this stuff, I wondered? The garbage man wouldn’t take any of it -- he told me the paint cans were considered toxic!

I remember having a garage sale last year and the things that did not sell, like my last lawn mower, I put out by the road with a big sign that said “FREE.” I even put those old paint cans out there. The next day it was all right where I left it; no one wanted my old stuff. Why won’t anyone take these things? I don’t want anything in return; I just need it all out of my life.

Those old paint cans are in the way and last summer one leaked onto the leg of an Adirondack chair I had just bought. If I’m not careful, these old toxic paint cans are going to ruin all the things I cherish.

It’s not just that I don’t want these things anymore; they are taking up space that I need for other things. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve started to collect more stuff and I’ve come to realize that I like this new stuff much more than my old stuff.

I need to get rid of this old stuff; it’s weighing me down and getting in my way. It seems no matter how big my “FREE” sign is, no one is willing take my lack of patience, my judgments, or my anger. Even if I offer “free home delivery,” no one will take my old broken down mower or my periodic pettiness.

If no one is going to walk up to where I live and lug this stuff away for me, I’ll need to find a way to do away with it all on my own. I don’t have a large truck, so I’ll probably need to make a bunch of trips. Purging a little at a time, slowly, I can clean it all out -- if I work on it diligently.

Should I lose focus or get tired, I’ll just look at all my good stuff; my friendships, my family, my passions, and joys and remember that I need to protect them from becoming tainted by this old stuff I’ve collected along the way. Strange, I can’t even recall where I got some of these old toxins. I guess, if you’re not careful, it just collects.

My good stuff is growing and the more I take care of it, the more it seems I get. Apparently, as long as I get rid of these old paint cans and all they represent, I’ll never really run out of room. Without these toxins in my system, I can store an endless supply of all the things I cherish.