Sorting your junk might be important (boring story).
So I am undertaking the Herculean task of getting rid of the junk that my old man has collected for 50+ years. He is on a world site seeing tour and that leaves me with a month long window to clean out the following: A basement, two tool sheds, two living sized trailers, a backyard, and four dead cars that are packed tight with the most random assortment of shit ever.
Jeff Foxworthy has wet dreams of my dad's yard it's that redneck.
Anyway, most of the junk I can just pawn off on DI (the Mormon equivalent of the Salvation Army). They'll pretty much unload all the crap you bring to them and give you a donation receipt so you can shave a few bucks off your taxes. It's better then dropping $5 to get into the dump every trip. Anyway, for the last week I've been emptying one of the trailers that is full to the ceiling of bags of old clothes, blankets, and god knows what else.
As you can imagine, hauling this amount of shit takes plenty of trips, even with a truck. Well for the last four days I've been hauling bags of junk to DI and the same guy unloads them for me. Well today the same guy was there waiting for me, but instead of diving right into the unloading process, he walks up to my window and asks me to roll it down.
"You might want to sort this stuff better before you bring it it." He told me.
"Um, okay. Why?" I asked.
He goes back for a minute and brings out a sweater that's bundled tight. He hands the moth-eaten garment to me and then turns he back, and silently goes to unload the bags of shit. Unwrapping the tight bundle, I discovered that inside it was a Bersa Thunder 380, fully loaded. Surprise? Well that's a good word but not a strong enough word. I thanked the guy after he unloaded the rest of my crap and headed home.
Turns out, my old man had taken the gun to show a friend a few years back, and forgot to put it back in the gun cabinet once he got home. My theory is the gun stayed inside the coat pocket for several years until the coat was finally thrown in with the rest of the dated garments where it rested inside the trailer until I loaded it up. All I gotta say is thank God the guy who unloaded my junk was honest enough to give it back instead of keeping it, or worst, just selling it off.
