I neglected to post an update yesterday because I was Getting Things Done. Since making lists and crossing off the completed tasks is my religion, it felt good to get started at last. Yes, I went down the basement and began to get rid of things with impunity. At one point on Sunday, when I had just started but had already made some progress, the Hubs dropped down and said it would serve the girls right if we both just died now and left them with all of it, as is. Ho ho ho. It sure would.
Black humor aside, he's also cleaning out the garage this summer -- you saw all the stars lined up in the heavens, and the birds and beasts talking to each other in the forests, right? -- I do think that part of what's motivating us is last year's experience cleaning out the apartment after Jack died. (Not that Hubs was involved. He just saw our share of it when I brought it home.) So much of what I'm looking out down in the basement just gets the death test: Will the girls want this when I die? Will they just chuck it out? If so, why don't I just chuck it out now?
So I'm making progress, although I'm achy and sore all over today. Unfortunately, there was no garbage pickup yesterday because of the holiday, so I can't drag it all out until Thursday. I've also got a huge pile of stuff for charity to come and pick up. I have learned that R left almost all her stuff neatly packed in stacked boxes, so the real crap down there is mine. I'm on it.
I've also made a major decision, with my sister's help: there's no reason for me to think I can do anything to make the carpet smell go away, so it's time to give up and get rid of it. YAY! There are decent floors underneath, so I'll just get inexpensive area rugs that I can replace every year or so when they've had their fill of cat vomit and excrement. I'm also going to Pottery Bahn on Friday and ordering some furniture for the living room. Sounds like a plan.
In other news, I had an interesting experience just now, which is all tied up in my conflicting lifelong desire to be anonymous and never noticed and yet to receive recognition of some kind. Generally, the desire for anonymity wins out, and I just feel safe and neglected at the same time. Makes no sense, I know. I'll have to share it in therapy. But things can be different in d-land, no?
I was looking at a regular read -- pink-enigma -- and she was saying how sometimes she gets caught up in reading all the back entries of one particular diary or another, and I thought, Oh cool; she's probably read an entry or two of mine over time, and then she said that the diary she's currently reading completely is mine! Really. Well, I just can't tell how this feels. I don't feel like the center of attention, just like I'm being noticed. (It probably never occurred to me before that there was a middle ground, because I'm like that.) I'm just me. Feels excellent. Thanks, sweetie.
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I'm watching Today Show
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Sweet Sorrow - 06.12.2007
So ... - 12.19.2006
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Fifteen Years - 12.17.2006
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