Wired has a delightful story about three sons disposing of their dad’s cache of old computers.
My brothers and I didn’t know Dad had a problem. We knew he had an insanely large collection of computers and related paraphernalia. I was living in Washington, DC, and somehow Alex and Andrew, back home in Seattle, had failed to notice that Dad could barely move around his apartment and was navigating from room to room via narrow, oyster-gray corridors formed entirely by PC towers.
In other news, I just inherited six Macintosh SEs from the widow of a hoarder, which I’m looking to place in my 500 sq ft apt. Shit.
Wait, it gets worse: Before they showed up, I had just cleaned my apartment in anticipation of a girl I had been dating coming over. She didn’t, the Macs did. Hey, who’s a cool guy!