I seem to have a lot of empty boxes that don’t want to go to the recycling, so I called Armando, whose brother I rent a storage space with, and he came and got me and the boxes and all of us drove to somewhere on another side of town. It wasn’t just dissatisfied boxes, it was a sad dehumidifier, some tearful floor covering, some troubled wooden structures that look like shelves but seem hopeless for the task, and an angry spiky pigeon shunner.
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