Skip

Today was the day of the skip. My ruthlessness now knows no bounds. Emptying the pit of doom that is my rather large full of stuff garage. Eight hours. Emotionally and physically exhausting. Took photos of fond things that have no space in my life no more.
Such was the fate of this biscuit jar. My horrid aunt gave my mum in about 1979. I loved it and the matching salt and pepper (?) even though the lid was broken in 1981 and plenty of chips along the way. I rescued it from my mums divorce clearout in 1985 so ironic that I hesitate over it now.
Yet and yet, it's been lonesome in the garage for years.,why do I hold on to it?
A moment of pique and 'twas gone...strangely satisfying if slightly fraught doing this to over attachments... why do us humans collect and bestow so much into the inanimate?
If I couldn't skip, I had the cremation alternative... bonfire was kept busy and still going when I collapsed to bed at 10pm.
Finally a good nights sleep unburdened by possessions!