I haven’t written anything on my latest novel. I have barely made any Angel Tears. I haven’t read much of my book about the Titanic nor started my sparkly bead tapestry.
I’ve actually been busy redirecting, rearranging, repainting and re-carpeting my bathroom, closet, and bedroom.
That’s not a big deal.
Well, it is.
Everything I own from two of those rooms are in three big plastic containers or in a big huge snow-like pile in another room.
Twenty-some years of clothes, jewelry, unicorns, jewelry boxes, hats, colognes, TV remotes, cards, beads, used football tickets, and more.
Now that I have brand new carpeting, a new shower and cabinets in the bathroom, closet shelves, black-out blinds, and two less pieces of furniture, I’m lost.
I am fortunate. Of this I have no doubt. This is my hubby and my last hurrah before he retires in a year. What will be here will be it. My retirement in paradise will be parenthesized by what we are able to do these months.
But these are new colors for me. New style. Sanded and re-stained furniture. Even plants in the bathroom.
What am I supposed to do with all these leftovers?
I already reorganized my bathroom drawers. Got rid of tons of stuff, bought little clear bins to organize, even learned how to fold bath towels a new way so they’d fit in the new cabinet.
But the things in these bins.
Like the things still lurking in my breakfront in the livingroom and on the shelves in my work room downstairs.
Memories, souvenirs. Slips and scraps of the past I’ve kept all these years. Chicago Bears tickets, games I went to with my sons. Jewelry I wore when I worked. Cards from my grandkids. Hair clips and party beads and little green tiaras and a sun hat with bling I made 15 years ago because it was “the” thing.
Unicorn statues out the gazoo. A unicorn rug my late mother in law made for me to hang on the wall. A cool street painting from Las Vegas we picked up 25 years ago. A bell ringing tapestry from the Renaissance Faire when I used to go.
So many things that bring back so many memories.
Yet I’m doing my best to downsize.
I have done a lot of that throughout my house this past year as I’ve remodeled and repainted rooms. I have cleaned out three hoarder houses in my life and do not want my kids to have to go through that with my junk.
How do I decide what to keep?
How do I decide what to give away?
How do I decide what to give to Good Will?
A bunch of said items came from Good Will once upon a time. That world is a treasure trove of helpful items, wall paintings, water pitchers and plates for under plants and wrought iron planters.
But I digress.
This will be the hardest thing I’ve had to do in a while. And memories are a sensitive subject in my life at the moment, too, if you remember. Make them, keep them, I always say.
I have told myself that I should give a few things to the girl grandbaby, but not too many. She doesn’t need an old granny’s junk in her bedroom at four years old. I should ask a few people I know if they would like this or that, knowing that they would.
Send them with love and kiss back into the world so they can bring joy to others. I mean, who couldn’t use New Orleans party beads or pretty bling bracelets and earrings?
Okay — that takes care of three things —