I wrote the other day about an unexpected delivery of what turned out to be 4 or 5 dozen copies of “The Etude” music magazine. They came from someone who found my “Etude” website and thought it appropriate to gift me a stack of those old magazines which had come into his possession. As much as I appreciate the generosity the simple problem with this is that two years passed before he actually sent the magazines. I did have a genuine and appreciative interest in the copies at that time he offered to send them but in the two years since I’ve mostly given up on them and written off the whole project as a waste of time.
Ironically enough it might be that this person’s shipment of those magazines is what finally compels me to get rid of my collection entirely. Well, almost entirely.
So I opened the boxes last night, just to be sure they were not actually filled with money. Of course they were not, What they were filled with was a stink bomb of musty, skunky, cigarette-smoke-soaked magazines from the 1940s. As would courteously be mentioned by someone trying to sell these magazines on eBay: “These magazines come from a smoking home.” My eyes watered and my head almost instantly hurt when that nasty stench burst out of the boxes.
I summarily ushered the boxes to the curb. I did not want to leave them in the building lobby, as I normally do with recyclable paper. The stench was strong enough that it could fill the lobby of the building. I left them out on the curb, giving the stink plenty of room to breathe. It was raining.
