Downtown Brooklyn Purgatory

All the sudden there was time to deal with all the bags of junk that had accumulated in our boiler room, the bowel of the household, where our once amazing purchases wind up after we've drained every possible drop of meaning or usefulness from them.

We had to bag somethings that were in boxes, box some things that were in bags, dismantle the mountain of debris, haul the load up the stairs and stuff it into the minivan, feeling a very faint ache for the times past and huge relief to be giving up these things.

When we pulled up in front of the Salvation Army on Atlantic Avenue my husband noted there was a space to pull over but a guy who looked a little like Robin Williams was standing in the middle of it as if he were saving it for someone. When I asked him if he were, he said he was just waiting of a cab and moved so we pulled over and start to unload. Things were going well, bags and bags of clothes pulled out, boxes of books and toys, a highchair, a baby backpack, a Barbie townhouse. As I waited in the car with Russell and Nora while my husband carried all the stuff in I noticed something very odd across the street, a very nice entrance painted sky blue bearing the name EX LAX INC. Naturally I thought of how in high school, when someone did something wrong, people would comment "Smooth move, Ex Lax."






















I was hoping for a smooth move of our crap but the next thing I know my husband was telling me they don't accept any baby items or toys at the Salvation Army. While we groaned a women wearing a white headscarf stopped to talk to us, a knowing smile on her lips, and I heard her mention the words Livingston and Bond to my husband. Apparently, that was the place to unload all the baby stuff. We went there and found a Goodwill that did indeed take the stuff, and which from the outside seemed full of promise. I think we're lucky that woman was there just as we were. I'm glad she was. Because there's nothing more discouraging than taking the junk back home again.