 packs of gum and grocery lists and it was just not okay but there was this one sofa in my living room that she sort of spent her dying months on and that became very difficult for me to even let people sit on you know I would like clean it every day and so I wrote a poem about this experience of a therapist working with me to try to let go of this sofa which is funny because I'm looking at it right now as I say this so it's still there bit of a spoiler alert there yeah