Too much of it
September 10, 2010 (Friday)
Here it is Friday and I’m still trying to regain my strength after my move to Rockport from Houston. I guess I really am nearly 79 after all. I cannot recall being more exhausted than I have been this week.
Little by little I’m organizing the clutter of things moved back from Houston. My first step is to continue getting the stuff to the proper room. Then I will have to decide what to do with it. I have no doubt that one of these days I’ll have it done. It will just take time, decisions, and action.
We “Depression Babies” have a hard time disposing of things. I’ts like an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other, both whispering in my ear. One says, “You may need that someday,” and the other yells, “Pitch it!” I just don’t know which is the angel and which is the devil.
It’s a good thing Dwight lives here with me. If I were alone, the stuff would stack up so heavily that I would just have paths through the papers and plastic (the upside: less carpet to vacuum). He keeps up the pressure to maintain breathing room by getting rid of junk.
I was partially raised by my grandfather, who straightened bent nails and encouraged me to eat everything on my plate. The Biblical proverb, “Bring up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it” certainly worked on me.
One thing working in favor of my disposal of stuff is this: If I don’t see it for a while, I’ll forget I ever had it. Add that to my list of geriatric blessings.
Now, where did I put that…what was I looking for? And what am I doing in this room?