warning: no pretty pictures!
He was standing knee-deep in boxes, linens, Christmas ornaments, and books. Always the books. “Mom, do you feel that you’ve allowed your home to become, hmmm, errrr, over-full?”
Now I recognize the opening line of an intervention when I hear one no matter how tactful the messenger. I began to respond by explaining that hardly any of it was my stuff....that I haven’t been feeling that well...that I feel overwhelmed...that I’d like to open a window and pitch it all on the lawn.
(I attempted to wash the fence last week...yikes!)
He walked into my sewing room and I rushed to say, “Not so bad, right? Probably better than your workspace in your barn to which he replied, ‘touché.’”
The standard joke in my family is that I am holding onto some great-grandmother or other’s bun. Yes, it’s not seven feet from where I now sit writing this post. It is carefully wrapped in tissue paper...I’d like to send it up the elevator... Are you following along here? I may be in trouble.
So today I am recommitting myself to decluttering. I was able to declutter John’s barn and property by tackling the next thing. (Let’s not discuss how much of it is here in bags waiting to be sorted.) The first thing that I worked on at John’s was the stairs...a double flight. I cleared them so I could safely walk up and down without fear of tripping. I think that will be where I begin here — the stairs.
I know that I must pace myself or burn out completely. Why I already have my dishes done and the Mancala beads washed so something has been accomplished.
Can dishes be "done" if they are still in the drainer? Am I holding onto too many sponges?
Have you ever found yourself in a nightmare like this? Can this wee haven be saved?
