By Gary M. Zeiss, Esq.
I rolled out of bed at around 9:30, early for a Sunday. It was going to be a nice day - not too hot, not too cold. Classic early October weather. Not a cloud in the sky.
I went into the kitchen and started the coffee. Then I looked outside at my job for the day. I've been putting this off for weeks (actually for years). Nevertheless, it needed to be done. No more procrastination.
I started the coffee and walked the dogs. Then I poured more and sat down in the living room for a few minutes. The Bills were playing the Giants - the game was just starting. I couldn't give a damn about either team but the game still drew me in. Another 45 minutes passed.
I walked back into the kitchen for yet another cup. I realized that I was putting this job off yet again. I pushed the button and the garage door opened.
There it was, my stuff.
Not a normal collection of things that had accumulated over the years - my stuff was morbidly special. The remnants of a marriage and family shattered by disease and divorce. And it was my job to sift through it.