Somehow when we started all of this construction business, I figured it would be fun to post the ups and downs of going through the mess I know is involved. Best laid plans. What seemed like forever was really only about six weeks, so I should have been able to write about some of it, but it’s not like we were renovating the Taj Mahal.
I guess putting up with this most recent mess isn’t such a bad way to live if in the process I can once again discover the joys of good housekeeping. *insert loud snorting and guffawing here* But I tell you, the old body just isn’t what it used to be. Hauling furniture up and down the stairs may sound like a great idea for working the glutes, but I pay for whatever gain I may get with excruciating pain in my arms. Imagine a hot pole being stabbed through your arm every few seconds if you type, or cook, or grip anything. Lovely. I am seriously good at sucking it up, however. I come from a very long line of women who just grin and bear it. Imagine the badges we’ll get when we reach those pearly gates.
But I am enjoying putting things back in order. Having to look at all of it in dusty piles and eliminating a few places I used for storage has forced me to reconsider some of my possessions. If I actually knew how to use eBay and didn’t mind mailing things, I’d have a roaring business ahead of me, but it’s more challenging than that.
When I look at many of my things, I can’t say they have any but sentimental value. For the most part, they remind me of times in my life that were filled with hope and some dreams that never quite came to fruition. When I look at them, I smile, remember, and know that it’s fine that none of it happened, but stuffing it all in a box to sit in the garage doesn’t seem right. So I’m sorting through it all and wondering what stays and what goes. What matters and what doesn’t.
Because when you get right down to it, if I don’t think it matches, it’s outta here. Well, maybe not quite that harshly. There’s more of a routine that goes something like this:
1) Move the item to a spot where it’s less noticeable — like the office upstairs. It’s the “I love it, but there’s no place to put it” graveyard. Nobody ventures up to the land of the Resident Teen but us, so I can put my items up there to sit for a while. A long while.
2) After I’ve given the item all the love and attention it’s going to get, and the layer of dust on it makes it appear somewhat like a chia pet, it goes in a box that’s headed for the closet. Any closet will do. It’s still in the house, and maybe comes out at certain times of the year — maybe — but clearly, things aren’t looking good for it.
3) Once the box is full, it’s moved down to the garage to sit along side other similar boxes. When I walk by the boxes, I’m reminded how much I liked those items, and oh aren’t they cute and I should go through them to decide what will stay and what will go. Later. Much later.
4) When we get tired of not being able to park both of our cars in the garage and actually clean it, I sort through the items, keep a few for old time’s sake and donate the rest.
The time is seriously now for one of those donations. I will wave lovingly from the garage as the truck pulls away with my memories hoping they will find a new home.