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Some people have skeletons in their closets. I have shit in my trunk. For whatever reason, it’s the one place I just never get around to cleaning out, and so it has a way of collecting memories. It seems to be where my baggage manifests itself. Seems appropriate, right? A car trunk? Really? Yep. Sigh.

When my last real relationship ended almost 5 years ago, it took me almost a full year to getting around to throwing out the rest of the crap that he left behind (it was a long relationship). But eventually I did. Everything but a collection of baseball cards that a male friend promised were likely worth something, which he made me promise to sell before I chucked them. So I shoved them in my trunk with the intention to drive them to a shop in Bethesda that specializes in that sort of thing. Then I forgot about them. Every now and then, I’d spy them there and think, “Yeah, I should get around to doing that.” But quite honestly it was just so low on my priority list; I was busy, Goddamn it! So it sat there for about an additional year at least until I decided I needed space in my trunk to move supplies for the tween arts camp I was directing and took them to the shop. They were worth nothing. I had the option of donating to a Veterans program, which I happily did. I think it was the end of that same day that I spied a picture of the ex with his fiance (now wife). Closure.

Later on, I cleaned out my trunk in preparation for a gala I was trying to run for the theatre company I was doing development for. When the event was over, I ended up with strands and strands of decorative Christmas lights. I left them in my trunk, intending to ask the artistic director to give me the key to the storage space so I could get rid of them, but I kept forgetting to ask, so they just kept sitting in my trunk. And once again, they got buried under something and I forgot about them. A little while later, I took a separation from my theatre company that ended in a divorce a couple months later. As the lights aren’t my property, I don’t want to get rid of them in case the theatre company wants to come over and take them back (you’re welcome to, ladies). For now, it’s required me to clean out my closet to make storage space. So now I have a clean closet and a clean trunk. I intend to keep it that way. The trunk, I mean. No promises about the closet, ’cause you know how that goes.