Thanks, Anyway

When I told my dad's favorite caregiver -- there were so many coming and going, getting into shoving matches, getting fired by the SJG -- that he was welcome to various items in the condo, I did my best to specify what was and wasn't part of the offering.  The text message exchange went something like this:
"I'm sure he'd love for you to have some things."
"He was a great man.  I'm just wondering about your dad's refrigerator.  If no one wants it, I will take it."
"The refrigerator stays."
"Ah.  Okay.  Thanks, anyway."
"But the treadmill is yours for the taking."
"It was an honor working for him."
"You took great care of him."
"What about the TV?  Do I get it?"
"No."
"Ah. Okay.  Thanks, anyway."
"You can have the bedroom furniture, and stuff in the kitchen.  The microwave, the toaster.  And did I mention, the treadmill?"
"I'll rent a U-haul.  I think of your father every day."
"Me, too."
"What's happening with the sofa in the living room?  Can I have it?"
"No."
"Ah.  Okay.  Thanks, anyway."
A few days ago, the caregiver and his friend showed up and got busy with the lifting and the schlepping.  Down the elevator, up the elevator. Such hard work.  They took everything I offered but the one item I wanted to get rid of the most.  The treadmill.