There’s a value in large-screen CRTs for videogame connoisseurs to play retro games. I put no effort during the past two months in finding a retro gamer to gift this TV, other than joining a general gifting group, so I finally took it to a donation organization. It’s on some pallet to be recycled now. It’s too bad, too, because it worked, and someone might have enjoyed it. That’s a burden to hold onto, though…
Here’s the ideal scenario for who would have received that TV:
Let’s say a gamer, “Jane,” is building out a videogame collection from her youth of her favorite games and others. She might even build out a retro games room like some will do these days, which means good storage, comfortable seating, and a TV contemporary to that era. I’d post this TV somewhere for free and she would be the new owner of it. I never used it to its full potential, it still had plenty of life left in it, and these sorts of TVs aren’t being produced anymore.
Let’s return to reality.
How much effort should I spend toward getting this TV into this hypothetical gamer’s hands? In a sense, I put in the most amount of effort I could over the past two months, which wasn’t much at all. Sure, it’s a shame whenever anything is recycled or destroyed that still has value to hypothetical people, somewhere, but that shouldn’t cause a burden of the mind or physical space. I never really cared about the TV in the first place. I rarely even used it in the old place.
It’d be different if I used it frequently.
I didn’t. It held no aesthetic or nostalgic value, so it was relying on some flimsy utility excuse, which won’t work when I’m focusing heavily on downsizing to move somewhere cheaper or closer to the action. I could have waited another few months, or tried harder to find a new owner, but today, I stopped lying to myself about finding that hypothetical gamer. That innocent lie told me, and tells us, that there is value in things that have no inherent value, whether physical or mental.
Donating this 27″ albatross means I’ve freed up this mental and physical space.
It took me these two months to acquiesce my subconscious concern over that TV-albatross weighing me down. I was able to lift that weight from my mind. I didn’t really care enough about the TV – it was a nice enough TV, but not amazing – to ensure that it had a “good home.” Why should I care about every little object having a “good home?” I don’t want to be reckless with things. I could have dumped the TV, like I’ve seen before, but I felt like it should be recycled, at least.
At least to give it a chance for survival.
Think about those physical or mental burdens you’ve been putting off addressing. Find their next owner or close them out.
Don’t let these excuses dwell.
|Sources: My personal experiences.|
|Inspirations: I wanted to explore my feelings about why I kept that TV so long.|
|Related: Other Downsizing Zeal essays.|
Above: That TV’s former residence.
Below: The TV on its gurney ride.
|Written On: May 7th [45 minutes]|
|Last Edited: First draft; final draft for the Internet.|