Jesus Christ. I have been cleaning the house and finding all sorts of historical crap. There is a plastic bag full of shit. My high school graduation certificate, various reports and unflattering notes from teachers using words like ‘careless’ and ‘retarded.’
‘Baby’s First Book’ is particularly interesting as my mother documented my growth and eating habits for the first year or so of my life. It is somewhat freaky to read in my mother’s handwriting and knowing she was writing about me and using words like ‘pablum.’ Little did she know I was only a few years shy of being a careless retard.
I know she gave me all this stuff some years ago because she probably wanted it out of her house, and now it is in mine, and what do I do with it? When I die the sentimental value will abruptly be reduced to zero and it will be tossed in the rubbish bin so why not now? Should I feel guilt at tossing something that my mother treasured for over 58 years?
I supposed I could take a room in the house and set it up as a museum comprised of an enormous collection of memories with tattered remnants of hope.
Friðvinsafnið
Opnunartími:
13-17 mán, mið og fimmtudaga
10-17 þriðjudaga og föstudaga
When I die perhaps I can have it placed in a small box in my grave. I’m not sure what else to do with ‘Baby's First Book’ and part of me resents the fact that it is my responsibility to make the decision.
But why not open a museum? I’m apparently already operating a thrift shop here.
A number of years ago I had a tank top fetish and acquired dozens. Last year I don’t recall wearing one all summer and I had managed to not wear any this year, so I started sorting through them, selecting ones I particularly liked, and some that had never been worn yet and put them in the pile to keep. The remainder went in a bag to be taken to the charity shop at some point.
Lately we started having the typical Texas summer with real heat (40C and over) and I noticed my t-shirts were wet in the arm pits for most of the day despite being inside the house. So I started shopping in my thrift shop bag. I pulled out one I had been reluctant to give away, then I pulled out another, and then another. I think there are now only about 3 or 4 remaining in the bag! But hey, at least they are getting worn, and the wet armpits have gone away. Plus, I can wear them in the evening and it doesn’t matter if I drop curry on them.
The good news is I have another closet that actually functions now. I tossed out two huge boxes that were used to ship my hi-fi speakers here a few years ago. Awhile back I smashed them flat but it didn’t really create any extra space due to the hard styrofoam packing material.
The weekend was actually productive overall as I managed to get both bathrooms cleaned and also started cleaning in the garage, plus the closet!
I think cleaning and organising is how I avoid confronting the harsher realities of life. And it happens to make me feel good in the process. It is, for me, much like meditation.
I intensely dislike clutter. Compared to the average American home this place probably looks stark and minimalist already but there is so much more to do.
The remodel of both bathrooms was far more disruptive than I anticipated since everything had to come out of both bathrooms. I still have not got things put back exactly the way I want them but at least a lot less went back into them than what came out!
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