It took Bunny and me nearly a month to go through the haul from Dad's storage unit. It was now time to make another trip there. We still had a few boxes of CDs left, a box consisting mostly of magazines with a few books (magazines will be trashed, but the books, most of which are golf related, will be taken and sorted through), and a couple of boxes of … cassette tapes? Seriously, Dad? Cassette tapes? There are used CD stores. There are used vinyl record stores.
But there is no such thing as a used cassette store.
And then the paper. The pads of paper. The pads upon pads of blank paper. I swear, there're enough blank pads of paper of all sizes to open a statonery store.
“I think your dad mentioned somewhere that he wanted to be a writer,” said Bunny, as we came across the umteenth blank pad of paper.
“Yes, but at some point you have to start writing!”
Seriously, if you need paper, I'm your source (in addition to being the source for New Age East Asian meditation neurohacking music CDs, reference books about mental health, golf and poker playing, pairs of glasses and music cassette tapes, in case anyone is interested).
And all that's left in the storage unit is a metric buttload of golf clubs and the stuff we consider trash (like the couple boxes of cassette tapes).