This evening I'll be creating a cassette tape casket, if you will.
In my efforts to "winter clean" my apartment, which I have been told is "cluttered," I'm collecting up my stacks of cassette tapes and stowing them away where they can't be accused of being "clutter" no more. The records, however, stay. This is non-negotiable.
[For those of you born in the 80s, cassette tapes are those card deck looking things with mini-reels of sound recording that can be played on what is termed a "tape deck."]
Even my beloved David Bowie cassette tape box set will be sealed up for my future kids to toss. Damn kids, they ain't got no R-E-S-P-E-C-T.
Now, I feel old... and I'm off to devour my moring bowl of pitted stewed prunes best washed down with a nice, refreshing Metamucil smoothie.