I’m developing a routine here in the land of downsizing. I spent this morning sifting through our 47 years of detritus and boxing up the items for donations.
We’ve already bought some boxes, but those will be traveling with us to the new place; I needed ones that I could leave at Salvation Army.
First on my errands came the big church around the corner where I left some really lovely things for their thrift store that I know I won’t really use.
Next came the Goodwill store where I dropped off three big boxes of office supplies (reams of paper, brand-new files, labels, mailing envelopes), two VCRs, and a box of picture frames.
Now it was time to fill the car back up.
At the first liquor store I brazenly walked in and asked if any were boxes available. The twenty-something there gave me three, then looked me in the eye and pointed out that most people buy boxes when they move.
At the next place I purchased a bottle of quinine water and scored four boxes. So far so good.
At the third liquor store, I looked in vain for a cheap bottle of mixer, ginger ale, anything that would buy me a friend at the cash register. No luck. I grabbed a bottle of wine and paid, only to learn that their boxes had all just gone to the masher.
I stopped at the grocery store, and on my way to the eggs a golden opportunity appeared in the form of a clerk unpacking peaches. I asked if by any chance there might be boxes available and came away with three hefty banana boxes. Major win.
Then on my way home, after all this giving to others and preparing to give more, I rolled up to a red light and saw to my dismay a man with a cardboard sign, “Homeless. Please help. God Bless.”
I sat there and waited for the light to change.
What to do?
What would you have done?