Today is Sunday and that means it is "official" trash day. Every week on this day of destiny, I take it upon myself to empty all the trashcans in the house. There are in total seven trashcans of various sizes, shapes and colors. I have to admit that while this is not my favorite activity in the week, it does give me extreme pleasure ridding the household of so much unwanted extra errata. Almost as if I am cleansing my soul, atoning all my sins of the previous week, releasing all sorts of poisons from my system, a spiritual and mental catharsis of unknown dimensions never experienced before. At least not for seven days that is. I start at the top floor and work my way downward. If Lennart's trashcan is not too full, I can use it to collect the others. I progress to the other kids' rooms, the bathroom and then to the kitchen. Finally every single trashcan has been emptied of undesirable wads of paper, candy wrappers, and other junk. What a relief, pure relief. The only problem though is that I expect it to stay this way the rest of trash day. Rule #1: "once emptied, all trashcans must and will remain pristine and unblemished for the remainder of the trash day." If someone dares breach this rule of the house, then there I am tramping up or down the stairs again in order to remove that extra paper wad, lollipop stick, gum wrapper, carpet fluff, release the house just in case. You never know, just in case. It all does make me feel pretty good, but is this perhaps a little too exaggerated? Oops, there we go again. Someone has defamed a pristine trashcan upstairs, and I have to react act in time before it is too late. There are trashcans here, trashcans there, trashcans everywhere. If you do not watch out they will overflow everywhere, and you will become submerged just gasping for air above the flotsam of the stormy seas. The cleaner my soul the better.
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Graduated from Stanford 6-5-1979 ago.
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First met Thea in Balestrand, Norway 6-14-1980 ago.