December 28th, 2016
Apart from sleeping my life away, I mean that in the middle aged way, none of the swinging from the chandlers. I have to admit a little early in the timeline of 2016 to curtailment of memories. This has turned out to be somewhat of a challenge, as per usual, as it means getting rid of things. Yet again descended into bowels of the basement and set about once again. To do what my dear and gentle reader cry !
Kick-offed upstairs with the dogs toys. 9056 bones are in the recycling, which bag, was the question. Green, white or blue, was the debate as they are organic, dry or compost-able. Lucy continues to astonish, she is outside at the moment with the 9057th bone and chewing away in the light flurries. I am astonished that I have to continue inn this vein of chucking, everything I own but the paper work, back to the year 2000. All this in the vain it seems attempt to downsize. I feel like that fellow that keeps pushing a rock up a hill, frightened if I discontinue ‘doing it” (downsizing, at my age, what did you think?) I will be found buried in a pile of my own making.
Substance and matter. it seems, keeps growing. Added to and aided by my mother. She having sent along her stuff to to more of my stuff. What to do with Chatty Cathy ? Not only my doll, but my sisters as well, and she packed them up not keeping hers. These beloved items, and many more, are not of museum quality I hasten to add, to constitute to what is already, in copious amounts, already down there. There are numerous, many, and more. Not just shoe boxes of accounting one has to keep to have the Income Tax Gods blissful. Photographs of my life, all it seems in plenteous detail. An Autograph book from my childhood written by people I know longer recall….There are suitcases that were to fit in the trunk of the old car. There are hockey bags that fit in the new car. I thru the course of the year, that would be 2016, added to the pile with garage sailing. WHY?
Lamps, of all sizes and varieties. There had been a complaint about lighting in one of the rooms. One of the previous guests had broken a twined pair all, aged and tired. ( I needlessly have to comment that is similar to its mistress of the house) The pair, one mutilated, trussed by its electrical cord to the worktable, waiting for MOI to get it to be repaired. Thereinn lies the tail of the diatribe for today. I had to go on a mission. Yes I know, sad but true. OFF I went completely inexperienced in these matters. I should not be left alone and more importantly unsupervised.
I found at yard sail a chandler and a floor lamp. I may have written about this encompassing and a comprehensive manner, however am at the age I cannot remember my middle names, or the story that goes with them. If I blather, again, just follow along. Mission accomplished ! There were lots of them, lamps discarded by the womens sister. The lady of the lamp was told that if the rest of them did not sell, to call as I was in love. My card was given for the express purpose.
The call came, but not before I had spent considerable time, and energy, a valuable commodity for the middle aged, let me tell you, hunting for but never finding light-bulbs for said sources of illumination. I had been to every big box store, but you will note, not to little specialty lighting stores which are now as rate as these fancy dandy light bulbs. Struck out. A thought wandered thru to get them realigned, both rarities in this day and age. My dad used to be able do it, repair things. No longer of this world, he is not longer able and it seems that no one under the age of 89 can do it. I must admit I can do many things, but this alas is not one of my many talents. Then were donations of “yard arms”, from friends, that had received lamps as a donation, from a motel. They for all intensive purposes look like black space shuttles appendages that go OVER and beside instead of just beside. They too take a degree in engineering to get them up and on the wall
Today all will be moved, the lightness, the damaged, the black,the soiled to a charity to empty out yet again space in the basement. No matter what you’re going through, there’s a light at the end of the tunnel and it may seem hard to get to it but you can do it and just keep working towards it and you’ll find the positive side of things. Demi Lovato Moi and Lucy P (or in my case the light at the end of the tunnel is the train.