I'm nuts. I'm pretty sure I wasn't this way when I was younger, but as time passes I receive more evidence that demonstrates my letting go slowly of rational behavior. Perhaps you need some context for this assertion.
For the past two days, a contractor has been fixing the water-damaged walls of this apartment. The water damage isn't particularly recent; it appeared on the ceiling and walls after the first rainstorm when I moved into this place seven years ago. To facilitate the contractor's work, I had to move things around and out of closets. This is always a mistake for me, since it means I'll be going through an archeological dig of my life. I'll be dusting off old comic books, drawings from grade school, bizzare fictional stories from high school and of course some relic from the last serious relationship I was in five years ago.
The particular artifact I found was synchronistically appropriate for the season -- her set of removed wisdom teeth. Why do I have these? For the requirements of full disclosure, I should mention that I have the two wisdom teeth that were extracted from my head and my procedure was done before hers. I imagine that she was trying to "be like jjohn," which does nothing to support anyone's claim to mental health.
Whatever the reason when her teeth were extracted, we kept them together with mine in a transparent plastic box. Presumably the transparent box was choosen to expediate frequent viewings of these ersatz charms. The box was soon relegated to the back of our closet, which in retrospect, may not have adequately stimulated demand to see the teeth by friends and family.
In my continuing quest to shed the weight of the past, I decided that perhaps the time had come to put her teeth to rest -- a metaphoric act to help bring me closure on this still somewhat ulcerous memory. With all the cermony I could muster, I sent those teeth directly to the bottom of the garbage barrel. Ah, sweet freedom! This act validates my new self image as the captain of my destiny; a leader of man; a veritable Nietzscheian ubermensch!
Then I found a photocopy of a newpaper review of the last play she was in and nearly bawled like a little girl. So much for Nietzsche.
On the plus side, I do have a lot more closet space now and I've purge my belongings of ties that I had no intention of wearing again. Oh, and I found my collection of bitchin' D&D dice.
If you think I'm going to be one of those old men living alone in an apartment with stacks of old newspapers piled higher than a good-sized adult, you're wrong. I'll probably have a cat too.