Well… I sort of got the mess
cleaned up in the spare room today. Sort
of.
I mean, I had to do
laundry, empty the dishwasher, fill both cars with gas, take my son’s car for a
ride to see if the battery charged, buy beer, bake for lacrosse, pay some of
the bills, find the password I wrote down for a new credit card (then forgot
where I put the paper), shred a bunch of documents, shred some old credit
cards, order a few Christmas gifts, make tuna salad because I was
starving, check on my medical paperwork to see if I actually did have all the
tests done that I needed to have done this summer, drink wine, organize school
paperwork, and find all the recent car
service receipts to figure out if I’ve ever replaced the brakes in my son’s
car.
So, I’m sorry if I didn’t
quite get through all of the paperwork I was supposed to get through
today. My house is still a semi-disaster
zone, and I’m afraid that soon a Haz-Mat team might come in. I have enough dust in here to send even the
staunchest healthy person into asthmatic shock.
I’m not sure if my floors are dirty or if I’m growing new sources of
food. I also discovered today that I
have enough pocketbooks to last me for the next decade and beyond, but I didn’t
realize that so I bought two more on sale recently. (It’s okay – they were really good sales –
designer bags marked down to DSW clearance, and then another 70% off on top of
that.) Oh, and my old, beat-up
pocketbook? Yeah … I’m still using
it. Duh.
The worst corner of the
spare room is done. Unfortunately I
still have a tall stack of writing notebooks and papers from the last three
years of grad school, and that’s going to take much longer to sort, so it will
remain in a pile for now, but what was once twenty-four inches high is now only
about eighteen inches high. That counts
as progress, friends.
I’m having company in a
week. Fortunately for me, they already
know that I live like a semi-hoarder.
Well, I live like a person who has zero closets because this house has
zero closets. It has a couple of cubbies
that, if combined, might equal one double closet in a kid’s bedroom. Storage is nonexistent here, so everything,
and I mean absolutely everything, is on display. Everything except my skivvies, though,
because I managed to stuff a small bureau into my bedroom. Living out in the open is a disadvantage to
living in an older, smaller home.
Smaller might make you
instantly think “easier to clean … less space.”
And you’d be right, and you’d be wrong because seriously, there’s no
place to put stuff, so I sort of cleaned up the mess today.
Sort of. And for now, I’m sort of done.
