They came on a Friday night — all six, which happens perhaps three times a year — and they opened it and they went through it.

Not ceremonially.

They sat on the garage floor and my kitchen floor for three evenings across two weekends with the bins out, and they went through fifteen years of paperwork the way you go through a dead relative’s house, which is to say mostly in silence with occasional shrieking.

The medical bin was boring, which surprised them.

The school bin produced about four hours of noise.

Ines found a detention slip from 2018 that she had successfully hidden and Solveig has now had printed on a shirt.