Stuff I Lost In the Move

(Originally written October 21, 2009)

An old dresser. An even older dresser, that had belonged to my grandparents at one time. All my journals. Some jewellery findings. Clothes, shoes, photographs, my mind.

I'm think of treating this whole horrific episode like a fire. I think it would be easier to accept that I lost everything in a fire than I lost it all because couldn't cope and I couldn't get any help out of my only son.

My old landlord stopped by one day in late October with a couple of things. He was down the stairs and in his truck before I even answered the door. I looked through the window and saw my hanging files, taxes, bank stuff, etc. and a small plastic box with my old jewellery boxes in it and other assorted junk. It is sweet that he thought they would be important and interesting what he thought would be important.

There is nothing of value in the jewellery boxes. There never was. But there was also an old watch case that contained a couple of Holy Cards and two rosaries. One was the rosary I received when I made my First Communion. I don't remember where the other one came from, but it is probably older than I am.

There were a few photographs, taken at Pat O'Brien's in New Orleans. I believe they would have found them in the dresser behind my desk.

There was the bottle of water from Lourdes. There was a brass cat and my travel iron, of all things. That's about it.

I feel like that is all I have of my life before this move. Oh some boxes were moved earlier on, but not many. Not many at all considering the amount of stuff I had. There were some things that were half-packed that didn't get moved. Those things were rather important to me. There were other things that didn't even get close to getting packed that never made it. Things that I cannot specify because doing so would just be too painful right now.

I've often thought that I made a terrible mistake moving here. I think my reasons were sound, but I'm not strong enough to put up with the constant disappointment that my son is proving to be.

The Move That Wasn't

Here it is, July 12th and I still haven't moved. Had arranged for movers on the 6th but had to cancel at the last minute because I was not even close to ready and was dangerously exhausted. Shortly after my son called them to cancel I fell asleep and stayed that way for 11 hours straight. Without moving a muscle. I needed it. I had literally slept a total of less than 2 hours in the previous 72.

The movers weren't upset, thank goodness. The owner actually welcomed the chance to get some unexpected rest. July 1st is a big moving day in these parts. Some movers can work 12-16 hour days (or more) 7 days a week during the last weeks of June and beginning of July.

I still haven't rescheduled the move tho. I'm afraid I won't be ready again. I was thinking just now that maybe I should voluntarily give the mover a deposit so that I'll move when he shows up no matter how prepared I am.

Part of the problem has been just how overwhelming this task is/has been and that I've not had the help that was promised. Any clutter-enhanced person can understand the magnitude of trying to divest oneself of a lifetime of accumulated possessions. (Can't you? Lie to me if you have to. Please.)

I've actually done better than I thought I would at tossing things out. Anything that is worn or broken is getting the boot. I've kept a number of things that I would fix "some time" and never have. Out they're going.

Clothes that I intended to mend. Gone.

Cheap pottery that I intended to glue back together. Gone.

Little dinosaur whose wings had fallen off. Gone.

Shoes that I would never wear again. Gone.

Purses that I would never use again. Gone.

I've kept those books that I want to donate to a local church's book stall, though. Just cannot bring myself to throw a book in the recycling bin. I really must go through the last two boxes then ask my brother to drive me and the books to the church tomorrow.

Well, it's 5:20 a.m. Slept about 3 hours last night/this morning. That's why I'm always so tired - it's about the maximum amount of sleep I get lately. Really must try for some more before it gets too late. My son has promised to help me today.

Next projected move date: July 14th - two days away.

Will we make it?

Keep your fingers crossed.

The Only Way To Get A Clutterbug To Declutter ... Maybe

Make her/him move to a new place.

But be prepared that the trauma of having to go through SOOOO much junque might just paralyze the clutterbug and NOTHING will get done!

I'm supposed to be moving by the end of this month - in less than 8 days. There's no way I'll be ready unless I just buy a couple of hundred garbage bags and put everything by the curb on Wednesday. I've got three garbage bags going at the moment. That's all I managed to toss out last week.

I haven't even arranged for movers yet!

I'm hoping to get one of my brothers to take me and about 7 boxes of books to a local church to donate to their monthly flea market and rummage sales. I might even have some trinkets and things to donate as well. The money they make goes towards free suppers for the less fortunate, so at least I know the proceeds will be put to good use.

But right now I guess I should get some sleep. How am I s'posed to get any sorting and purging done if I'm dead tired? ;-)

I think it's time to get a PDA...

... and an MP3 player and a Blue Jay er, Blue Ray Blue Disc, Blue Tooth Blue Nose whatever. All I know is I've fallen behind in the technology department and I'd better do something, fast, before I become my parents.

I used to know all about the latest technological advances almost as fast as they were released on an unsuspecting public. A friend used to call me a techno geek, but I don't think I was that proficient. I had a keen interest and an excellent aptitude. I knew there were eight bits in a byte before most people knew that "byte" could be spelled with a "y" and have nothing to do with food. But I've been ignoring technology these last few years, unless it directly and immediately affects me. For instance, I have no idea what that Blue Ray stuff is all about - never seen a player nor a disc (I'm assuming it's a disc).

I got my wake-up call at my parents' house last night. My mother, brother, SIL and I were chatting at the table after supper while my father watched TV. My mother told us that my father had done something to his little clock/radio/CD player contraption and it didn't work anymore. She'd taken a look at it and pressed a bunch of buttons and couldn't get it to work. She had no idea what he'd done. Maybe one of us could take a look at it and see if we could fix it?

I went over and looked at it, opened the lid of the CD compartment and announced "The CD was in upside down." I turned the CD over and played it for a couple of seconds just so they could see (hear, really) that it was working. Of course my father blamed my mother for putting it in backwards and my mother swore she never touched the thing. Some things never change. Thank goodness.

My parents are 86 years old. My mother still refers to the disc in the digital camera as "fill-um."

What can I say? That could be me one day and it will be my son rolling his eyes when I've put the Purple Zapper movie chip into its player backwards. Know what I mean?

R.I.P. My Sweet Bud

My beloved dog, Buddy, was sent to a pain-free place yesterday. He was 16-years-old, darn good for a dog of any size, damn good for a dog of his size. He looked like a small Lab-Sheppard cross, but several people told us/asked if he was a Walker Hound. He certainly had all the characteristics of a Walker Hound, including that knock-ya-across-the-room-tail of his. I'll never forget the time Aidan and I sat down on the deck and Buddy came rushing up all excited, as he usually was and you could actually HEAR his tail hit poor Aidan in the head! I debated taking the poor kid to the hospital to check for a concussion.


Buddy could be at that fabled Rainbow Bridge now. Or he could be standing on the outside still waiting to get in because Cutie is laying in the doorway and he's too afraid to walk past her. Silly dog. I think Hemmi would stick up for him, tho. Even tho he too gave Cutie a wide berth when he was with us. Silly cat. And Cutie would be loving the whole thing. Typical cat.

It was so hard to see him go and I keep forgetting that he IS gone. Then my heart gets crushed all over again.

This is going to take a long time to get used to (dangling participles be damned).

Stay loose.