I try not to do any of them, but lately, I have been doing all of them.
I have been waging war on the clutter in and around my house. So, I have been bitching at myself about being a hoarder. Actually, I am not exactly the reality show version because I do not have tons of scattered garbage with dead animals mixed in. You can sit in my living room on the chairs instead of plastic garbage bags filled with miscellany. However, there was an episode that focused on a person who they called ‘hyper-organized’ which looked really familiar. All that to say, I have been going through boxes of papers, crates of junk and/or heirlooms. I am trying to keep my sanity.
When my mother moved in, we put our old life in the garage in her boxes, meaning to sort through them together. We started on it several times, but made little progress. Now that she has been gone for two years next month, I have been able to throw things away, but not without some sorrow. I keep telling myself, I will be better for it. And some days I do believe it. But some days I find scraps of paper with her handwriting on them, clearly garbage, they make me so sad. I have found things that Daddy was working on, it makes me cry. I want to keep some of the them, but they are old technical things that are no long useful. So, with tears in my eyes, I lovingly put things in the recycle garbage can, keeping it in the garage until pickup day so that they will be protected and not rambled through by people looking for metal.
It is hard to be sad and proud at the same time. Hence the moaning.
I have been in this process for over a month now and there is no finish in sight. To me this is like a crossing of the Chesapeake Bay Bridge and Tunnel. You pay a price to get on the damn thing, you forge ahead until you get to a spot where you are out in the middle of the ocean, no land in sight in front of you or behind you. This is where I am, smack dab in the middle. Groan, groan, groan.