My mom and Kate had to be out today, so they were trying to get rid of the detritus of 57 years. When I was there yesterday, they said they would be putting their TV out at the curb, so I asked if I could have it. I don’t have any need for another TV, but the thought of anyone else getting it for free was less appealing than finding a place to put another TV, so I said I would take it.

I had to go back today, though, because they needed to be able to watch TV last night. So again, just like yesterday, I was awoken at the ass crack of dawn by a text asking if I was coming for the TV, and if I was, could I take a load to Goodwill for them. “Only if they’ll take it,” I replied.

The last time I tried to donate something to Goodwill, they refused. “We’re not taking any plastic!” the man barked. Plastic is a broad term, and with no further specification or explanation, I began to put the computer with its plastic case back into the car. The man stopped me and said they would take it. “But it’s plastic, I retorted.” He shot me daggers.

So, you can imagine my great surprise and relief when they took everything my mom had loaded into my car this morning. It was all shit. A bag filled with pillows tinted a dingy yellow, a bag of cheap plastic coat hangars, and old, dirty bathmats that I found in the attic just yesterday.

I went into the attic to see if there was anything worth salvaging, and at the entrance, there were two bathmats and a towel lying on top of each other. My mom told me to throw them away, so I took them outside and stuffed them onto the top of the recycle bin since the trash can was already full. When I walked by a little while later, I noticed they had been taken out again.

I couldn’t believe my eyes this morning when I saw the old, shitty attic bathmats neatly rolled and wrapped in plastic. I was even more surprised when Goodwill actually accepted them. As my son was taking them out of the back of the car, he picked a big chunk of hair out of the nap of one of the rugs.

So, that’s it. That’s the end of this chapter of my life. They say you can never go home again, and now, for me, that’s true in both the literal and metaphorical sense. I mean, I guess I could go back, but there might be charges involved now.