I’ve started cleaning out
the basement, little by little. I was
really hoping to have made more progress by now, but I guess if I messed it all
up over several years, I cannot expect to un-mess it in a day or two,
especially since I am systematically reorganizing as I go.
It looks a little better
down there, so that counts for something.
However, I was really hoping to have it all done before my school break
is over. I’ll shoot for the end of
February break. That seems reasonable
enough.
I’ve gotten through all of
the toys and games, which in itself is remarkable. Games are now mostly in my den, so they’re
accessible and inviting rather than stuffed on shelves behind lawn chairs, all
the while gathering dust and dryer lint.
The toys are on shelves at the top of the cellar stairs in the landing,
including dozens of Matchbox and Hot Wheels cars, puzzles, and more crayons and
colored pencils and art supplies than anyone could ever need in a lifetime.
I reorganized the tools,
which meant actually organizing screws and nuts and bolts and washers and nails
along with wrenches and screwdrivers and putty knives and hacksaws and hammers
and drills. I have enough miscellaneous
stuff to fix, repair, or Mickey-Mouse pretty much anything around the house
until the landlord can come to actually fix it, should anything need fixing,
that is.
I went through the camping
gear, of which there isn’t much because I stopped camping when I realized that
camping with young children meant pretty much bringing the entire house along
with me. I also cleared off more space
to repack the Christmas stuff, which I still have not packed away yet. The Tree is still up and lit, and it may stay
that way until next weekend. Maybe even
longer. I don’t care.
The big hurdle, though, is
the sporting goods. I have a collection
of sporting goods that rivals Play It Again Sports. I started small when it comes to going
through all that gear – I started with the two giant plastic tubs full of
stuff, some of which has been sealed in the plastic crate since my foot surgery
six years ago. It has been too
depressing to even look at it. Before my
foot was rebuilt, it became painful to wear my ice skates, so I stopped ice
skating. I have a pair of old figure
skates and a pair of hockey skates, but my pre-surgery right foot no longer fit
in either. The same with my roller
blades – packed away because the pain far outweighed the gain.
I unloaded all of my gear
along with my kids’ gear, stuff no one touches anymore because feet had grown
and no one had time for roller hockey or outgrown cleats anymore. I hauled each pair of skates and cleats to
the top of the stairs, intending to sort which might be in good enough shape to
be traded in at the resale shop (Play It Again Sports) and which might go
directly to the trash without a second thought.
Then I plunked myself into a fold-out chair and tried stuff on, fully
and totally expecting the same pain and the ill-fit to turn my sporting goods
pile into a huge, full trash bag.
Instead I was like
Cinderella with the glass slipper. The
figure skates, stiff and dusty from neglect, gradually softened enough for me
to stick in my foot. They still fit. My hockey skates also still fit. My roller blades not only still fit, they
felt comfortable. Then I tried on gear
my kids left behind and realized there were two more pair of hockey skates and
a pair of bonafide roller hockey blades that fit me, too, and an old pair of
soccer cleats. Only one pair of small,
rusted skates needed to be tossed.
Everything else was salvageable.
Score! It was like Christmas all over again, and a
long six years of post-foot-surgery recovery time vanished into the air of the
past. Not only can I wear shoes and
boots again, I can wear skates again.
Skates! Honest to goodness
skates!
All I need now is a frozen
pond or a rink. Back when my own kids
were in school, the local college often had open skate times during their
school day, and on days when I wasn’t working, I sometimes had the entire
hockey rink to myself. I doubt I’ll be
that lucky again, but I’m willing to get right back into the gear and give it a
go.
All I need now is to quite
literally put my best foot forward … and follow it with my “bionic” foot, now
that it actually fits into that long-awaited glass slipper that is mysteriously
disguised as several pairs of old skates and some well-broken-in cleats.
