Taking out the trash

Spring cleaning isn't usually a major activity in my household, but last week I decided to finally straighten our downstairs because it was starting to get too cluttered.

One project turned into two, and then a third, and before I knew it, I was reorganizing our bedroom in order to make room for some stuff. I didn't want to do it, but I knew it was time to clean under the bed. There was a lot of stuff under there that I hadn't seen for years. Literally.

In-line skates I've never used (complete with matching knee and elbow pads!)

Old luggage (my way cool Army garment bag!)

Old magazines that would never be read again.

And here they are! The bag full of temple garments that I stopped wearing two years ago!

No sense in hanging onto those ridiculous things, since I know I'll never make it back to the temple. No more cult rituals for me, thanks! I'm doing just fine out here in the real world with the sane folks.

I suppose that instead of simply tossing the garments into the trash, I could have done something more malicious with them, like burn them or donate them to some crazy evangelical Christian street preacher to stomp on and wave around come next General Converence. But what good would that do?

Nah, the trash can is right where they needed to go. And since I no longer beleive in all the hocus-pocus superstition concering their "sacredness", I didn't bother to carefully remove the little Masonic symbols and burn them in reverence. I say "pshaw" to all that nonsense.

Yep, it's nice to have a clean spot under the bed, an organized basement, and wearing boxers again!

Thus sayeth Al.