1996 - 2014
You and I have been together a long time. I bought you with my KMart discount at my very first job. You were there when I had mono. You were there when I fell in love. You were there when I brought my first child home. You admirably housed Bob Dylan and Duncan Shiek, the Smiths and the Quad City DJs, Depeche Mode and 4-Non Blondes. And you never judged me.
But my wife judged you. She always hated you. She said you were dusty. She said you were "in the way". She said you were obsolete. And now she's used a home improvement project as a means to eliminate you. You are now going the way of my beloved metal swivel wheeled office chair (circa 1966) that had just a little bit of cushion stuffing protruding out. You are going the way of my only-partially torn half-life-sized print of the School of Athens. You won't be the last -- she's eying my Incan God wallet that is still intact by a few threads. And my Comedy Barn T-shirt (google it, second row, first on the left), just because of its color.
I'm going to miss you. But you have to go because she says so. You find a good home now. And don't hate me. Hate her.