• one pair of fleece pants. they didn't fit well at the best of times.
• one pair of board shorts. which did fit well at the best of times.
• one purse. well-loved. well-used.
• one more curtain tie-back. such superfluousness.
• two children's magazines. makes me slightly sad. likely the result of post-thanksgiving carb loading.

• two manuals. to equipment that is gone, long gone.
• one necklace. provenance and current owner unknown.
• one more cord. they breed.
• one balloon. these no longer show up with much frequency, now that the littles are large.

• lack of confidence.
• need for perfection.
• extra work.
• self-doubt.
• anxiety. thanksgiving

• the last dvd. sigh of relief.
• a pair of snowboarding boots. the giant outside belies the too-small interior.
• three tubes flavored lip balm. blech.

• another key. what would it unlock?
• a curtain tie-back. superfluous.
• a printer software disc. i'm almost free of discs, forever.
• an ink cartridge. i know i am supposed to recycle these, but sometimes...
• a shirt. shrunken intentionally, but not successfully.

• one power cord. gleefully tossing things i may later need.
• four tiny pencils. as a child i would break new pencils to make these.
• a plastic tray. possibly part of a printer. not an important part, apparently.
• four parts of a toy. that we no longer own.
• two pencil cap erasers. which are useful but somehow irritating.

• about a million pieces of paper. i hate paper so much that i accumulate a lot of it. which does not make me like it any better.

• two small pencils. shorties with no erasers. so easy to indulge bias in a world full of pencils.
• berry flavored lip balm. an abomination i may miss after the apocalypse.
• a very thin round battery. possibly it would have powered a headlamp i will want to use in that apocalyptic aftermath.
• a lipstick case. with a mirror! made of red leather! in italy! so pretty.

• a shower caddy. no place for this in my beautiful new bathroom.
• an old electrical outlet. unknown to me this was replaced with a newer, better one.
• all-day callous cushions. makes me hurt to look at the package.
• a pad of green paper. which reminds me so much of a particular time.
• a tiny bar of soap. because, how many?

• a plastic checkbook cover. does anyone use these anymore?
• a plastic knife. that used to be attached to a plastic knife and plastic fork.
• a plastic cup. long unused.
• a plastic ruler. ditto.
• a giant plastic bag. a curse on plastic!

• a grater with a handle. less handy than anticipated.
• a glass lid. i almost remember what this used to cover.
• a plastic lid. i remember the bowl it once covered, but not its fate.
• a truly terrible strainer. life will be more beautiful without this in it.
• a truly terrible plastic cup. life will be more elegant without this in it.

• one green wooden drawer. new bathroom. new drawers.
• one boot insert. no boot.
• two gloves. one torn glove leaves another useless glove.
• seven light bulbs. solving the mystery of the buzzing switch.

• two bottles medication. one human, one lizard.
• one plastic... something. which once had name and purpose.
• a pack of stickers. purchase date: early childhood.
• a piece of ribbon. too short, too short.
• a yellow marker. always the one unused.
• a tiny yellow plastic cup. used quite a bit.

• one aquarium.
• an aquarium thermometer.
• one water dish that looks like a truncated rock.
• two wood limbs. for climbing.
• one fake hollow rock. for hiding.
• a heat lamp.
• a heating pad.
• my sorrow over the loss of a beloved pet. i hope.

• a tub of mealworms.
• a tub of wax worms.
• a bottle of water conditioner.
• a jar of calcium powder.
• our lovely lizard. amelia.

• one orange sweater. sadly unflattering.
• one sports helmet. for a very tiny head.
• a rock. obsidian, but still a rock.
• a tube of fizzy rehydration formula. that tastes like grape cough syrup.
• a pdx carpet jack o'lantern. yes, we did.

• one shirt. which definitely fit when in the store.
• a drill. no longer spins.
• the suitcase the drill lived in. a horrific amount of plastic.
• a tiny boa. very pink.
• a cord. one of those it always seems ill-advised to toss.

• ten brown paper grocery bags. recycle is as good as reuse, right?

• two keys. to a door i plan to throw away soon.
• three tiny rubber things. for bottles. or decoration. or something.

• five single socks. whose pairs will appear minutes after the garbage truck has departed.

• one stick of deodorant. which i hate but am, inexplicably, still using.
• one ugly orange vase. enough said.
• an eyeglasses case. nothing nice about it.
• a pencil sharpener. one of dozens.
• an old packet of cucumber seeds. it's oddly difficult to throw away the seeds i've failed to plant.

• five more books. there are always five more books.

• a popsicle stick sculpture. or at least structure.
• a tube of mascara. masquerading as a marker and hiding among the pens.
• two rocks. yes, friends, more rocks.
• a box of junior mints. i really love junior mints.

• two polishing pads. i think i used to own a polishing appliance of some sort.
• one aquarium light. i must have owned an aquarium at some point.
• one aquarium thermometer. see above.
• one package wire connectors. just say no to diy electrical work.

• four little soaps.
• two little shampoos.
• two little body lotions.
• one little body wash. all gone to a food pantry. which can always use non-food items.

• seventeen items of clothing. not actually my clothes, but they might have lingered for years. i claim the victory of eradication.

• a magazine. i only read these when i buy them at the grocery store, never when they come to my house.
• 5/6 of a black rubber box. associated with electricity?
• a package of page protectors. which we must have needed at least one of at some point.
• two pieces of art. it speaks to you, then sometimes it does not.

• the instruction manual. to the kiln i got rid of last week.
• an attachment. to the vacuum i threw away two weeks ago.
• an ikea catalog. bought the sink a month ago.
• a coil of weatherseal. which i gave up on last year.
• a pair of pants. which have never gone with anything, ever.

• two vent elbows. just the kind of thing you might find a use for two weeks after throwing it away. or not.
• a mug. just a hairline crack, but we know where this is leading.
• a pair of gardening gloves. too small, very stiff. they might encourage you to rethink weeding altogether.
• the lid to a candle. i don't get it either.

• one skirt. so similar to another one i own. how does this happen?
• one sweater. which i l o v e love and still don't wear.
• three shirts. boom.

• five more books. filling the tiny free neighborhood library. a portland thing i love.

• one very nice sweatshirt. not that sweatshirts are generally flattering, but.
• a pair of ski boots. that fit someone in this house several years ago.
• gooey rubber window climber toy. throwing this away meant touching it.
• jar that was once a snow globe. but is not now.
• strap that once attached something to something. else.

• the kiln. just one, but it was a doozy.

• used ink cartridges. i'm sorry, earth.
• a broken cell phone case. still sorry.
• the box my iphone came in. really, really sorry.

• five lice-killing compounds. ever the optimist.

• one tiny archeologist's brush. used to uncover one tiny terra-cotta warrior.
• four books. the books we love are precious until one day they just aren't.

• six dvds. i'm not entirely sure what dvd stands for.