Oh, Joy!

My filing cabinet was delivered yesterday! I had gotten an email to the effect it would be, but I didn't believe that for a minute (Oh, ye of little faith...I'm a skeptic, all right). But it did indeed come and was left at my door.
I had gone over to Von's for provisions for the sandwiches I'm bringing to Santa Barbara today and when I got back, there it was. At first, I didn't think I could get it in by myself, but I managed. Then it took me a lot of time and labor to open the box and get it out, but I did. I pondered how I could get it in the bedroom without scratching the hard floors and I came up for a solution: I spread a furry-type throw in front of it, laid it gently down, and kind of slid/pulled it. In the bedroom, I was able to "walk it" next to the bureau where I decided to put it.*
This is a half-size model, which is what I wanted, so there are only two drawers for file folders. Of course, true to the axiom that crapola expands to fit whatever space you have, I found that it's perfectly adequate, even though my old, full-sized one held twice as much. That's because I had kept much too much paper. For instance, every year, Groendyke insurance sends me a huge volume of papers, outlining what's covered. Of course, I needed to keep that--but not every one since 2016! Add to all that DMV and AAA stuff--since I no longer have a car, out it went. (I now had a lot of paper to toss and I hadn't brought my shredder from Jersey, but see later.)
I took a short break from my sorting, filing, and discarding and rode the 21 to the transit center, then rode back on the 6, just to get out for a bit. There were only four people on the 6, one a boy, maybe 15 or 16, who sat across from me.  He suddenly threw his arms up in the air and uttered a guttural sound. Twice more during the ride, he yelled something else. The other two people looked angrily around at him, but I just asked him if he had Tourette's. He said yes and thanked me. I was glad I hadn't stared at him, poor kid.
Called Ellen to ask if she has a shredder. She doesn't, but she suggested I get four bags, cut up the papers into fours, and deposit them in the bags. Good idea, after I first black out any with my name or other personal info.*
Now I want to get my donations to Goodwill or somewhere, then my room will be spiffy!
*I find it satisfying to solve these minor items on my own. Life can be unnecessarily frustrating if we persuade ourselves we can't do something or we need help, or it can't be done, or whatever. Sometimes, sure, but when you live alone, you get used to creative problem-solving--and it feels good.