I do not like to part with things. I can find a sentimental attachment to damn near anything. I also feel immense guilt when I get rid of something. I'm still that five year old that worries about leaving her stuffed pals alone on a long vacation, or having to throw out sneakers that I've outgrown and fearing that they think I don't love them anymore. The rational, adult side of me knows that sneakers and stuffed animals have no soul, no pulse, and no feelings. Still, I feel awful, physically awful, when I have to let something go. My brother, Dave, has been near begging me for the last five-plus years to please get rid of my old-ass television and upgrade to something bigger and better. I resisted. The Trinitron was my first grown up TV and has worked perfectly for the last twenty-six years. Why should I trade it for something new when it still has so much life left in it? Well, I finally gave in yesterday. Momma Rose had bought Aunt Berne a new TV for her place earlier this year and after Berne passed away last month, Mum needed to re-house it. I felt like the universe was nudging me to take advantage. Throwing out my Trinitron has left me with a lot of guilt and as Dave took it out, I said to it, in my head, "I'm so sorry. You deserve better." I mean how pathetic that a fifty year old is upset and near tears that she has to retire a television set? But, weirdo that I am, I took the opportunity to get a couple selfies with it and one of our fave shows to watch together. Twenty-six years was a good run. Rest in peace, old pal.

