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My younger daughter sent this to me a couple of weeks ago. We both laughed because it was so depictive of her own experience every time she comes to visit from Portland. At some point during each visit, my older daughter takes her down my basement and holding her arms open wide says, "This is what we are facing when Mom dies." Then we all laugh!
She's right, though. The basement is FULL of boxes--mostly the boxes are all of the figures and findings and undercloths and greenery to enhance the every- other- year display of my beautiful Nativity collection which began in the early 1970's. And now, over 50 years later, it is a vast amount of "stuff" to support my passion for that ONE WONDERFUL NIGHT!
But, there are also boxes of other things, too. School memorabilia, mostly, that belongs to my children. Some of those saved items I have taken to THEIR homes, but the kids I go to visit on a plane still have boxes down there because it's more than carry-on luggage.
And there are boxes of pillows and blankets left over from the years people actually stayed at our house when they came to visit rather than stay at a hotel like they do now. I get that--I do the same when I go to visit them!
Oh, and treasures I brought back from our wonderful years that we lived in Sweden and West Berlin Germany.
And there are boxes of kids' books and brand new supplies of crayons and pencils and tablets and journals and anything else that I kept around for those visits when I had planned fun adventures during their visits--the Nichols Family Olympics, Summer Safari, Summer Splash, The Grands Go Hawaiian, and all the other events I hatched for their entertainment--you get the picture.
Plus, there are the small items I have purchased here and there to have on hand when I want to give a little gift to a friend or a neighbor who is ill or down or just needs a friend. That all takes space, too.
Not to mention all my United Airlines uniforms that can't be given away--in the interest of security so no unauthorized person can impersonate a flight attendant because it is against the law. They are still down there, too. Apparently, I am supposed to destroy them but haven't done that yet either.
But when my husband told me I was a HOARDER just a few days before I received that telling cartoon, I protested to the max. NOOOO! I'm not a hoarder. I don't save stacks of newspapers and magazines and containers, etc. that pile up all over the place.
And to prove him wrong, I went to the dictionary to show him the definition of a hoarder--those people on TV shows that have rotting food and lost pets in the mess all around them.
But I was chastised to find that one of the definitions of a hoarder was "having a difficult time letting go of items that have a sentimental attachment." Uhoh, that IS me to a certain extent.
Okay, organizing the basement and having a huge garage sale was at the top of my list when I retired in 2000. But, five days after I retired, I accepted a position teaching religious education to high school students. My plans got put on hold. When I was finished with that assignment, I was tapped to be the secretary of the very large women's organization in my Church. That is still an on-going--and very demanding--responsibility.
So, the picture boxes, the recipe files/books, and my desire to select letters from my vast correspondence for a second edition of the book I self-published 15 years ago all got put on hold--and are still there. ON HOLD!
But, I have scaled down my intent to do everything at once by concentrating on more doable chunks because I know I do not have the time, and let's face it, the stamina to work tirelessly for eight to 12 hours a day on projects that require a lot of physical output. Now, I have small tasks that are not only doable but still give me the satisfaction I am getting a foot in the door to my desired final outcome.
One box a week to the thrift store. On Tuesday. Without fail. It's working!
This week I chose candles. I haven't used them in years to burn as a room aromizer or even to use in decorating. Easy for me to give away. No sentimentality there. So, for the past several days I have systematically gone through Christmas boxes labeled with candles as part of the contents, kitchen shelves, and any other nook and cranny I just happened to see a lone candle. And off they went to the thrift store. Brand new. Maybe someone will enjoy having some delicious scent for a long soak in the tub for a spa-like atmosphere. Maybe some other use...I don't know. But after I threw away the ones that I HAD burned--even a little--there were still two small boxes to share with someone else.
Of course, I had to treat myself for accomplishing my doable goal. That was part of the incentive, too. Since today was Taco Tuesday, I indulged on the way home then peeked once more into the tidy 3 shelf cupboard I had relieved of its candle burden. Looking good!
I'm hoping my husband isn't expecting a Mary Poppins experience where the results are done with a few magical words and gestures. This is still REAL LIFE, you know!
Patting myself on the back...I am off to a pretty good start. Four weeks. forty-eight weeks to go.
Then there shouldn't be anything left that has to be "unhoarded".
HAHAHA!
