Today I attacked the last room in the house. I saved the gnarliest, most toy filled, most out of control room for last. To recap, I’ve organized and mostly packed the playroom, all 7 closets, all 4 bathrooms, the basement, the office, and the kitchen/dining room. (Whew! No wonder I’m exhausted.) The one remaining room? The one where I feared to tread? Sassy’s room.
Notwithstanding I piled in a whole bunch of stuff from the playroom and game closet, her room is mostly out of control. She likes to go in before bed and tear around like a tornado, and THEN go to sleep. So, today was the day I was determined to pack it all up or sell it all off or give it all away. The begining part of the day she came in to help me. I would put things in the ‘give away’ pile, and she would help me by picking it up and putting it in her ‘to keep’ pile. She is a chip off the old block (that would be me), after all. Then she got distracted by the television and I went to town getting all the give away stuff out.
I know I’m being drastic with how much stuff I’m giving away/selling, but I’m not holding the kids to that standard. I don’t want them to feel traumatized by this move or that they *have* to give everything away. They can fill as many boxes as they need to get everything they want to take with them. Sassy is a bit tricky, because she’s young and a packrat, just like me. In fact, I had just given away a plastic tiger head that hinged open that we got with a meal at the Denver Zoo. I hadn’t seen her play with it or pick it up in months. The day after I gave it away, she asked me where the tiger head that hinged open was. Darn her memory!
I managed to give away quite a bit of clothes and books and toys (with her permission). All she cares about is that her stuffed animals are taken care of and accounted for.
While I was hard at work upstairs, my brother was busy in the garage. Remember the garage yesterday?
He put an ad in Craigslist which read as follows:
“So it’s finally the last day of the $1 sale. Regardless of original price or size, regardless of whether you believe me or not, regardless of the laws of economics…EVERYTHING IS A DOLLAR. So come have a great day searching through organized rows of
Fine Home Decor…candle holders, dish sets, various and sundry things used to make my sisters home look beautiful while she lived here
Christmas Decorations…lighted garland, other crap like that
Books!…She’s a crazy independant super sweet home-school mama
So we’ll be here until 8 tonite, email me and I’ll get you the address
PS. Seriously, get over her so I can help load your car with stuff for super cheap!!!!”
The promise of organized and beautiful crap really got the people out, and by the end of the day we were left with this:
He took most of that to a local charity drop off, and I’ll take the books/clothes/toys to various women’s shelters and schools around here.
I kind of stalled out in Sassy’s room. With about a box full of stuff still on the ground after being in her room for hours, I had to stop and do something else. I took the girls to get their hair cut and then came back to a lovely dinner cooked by my lovely brother. Then he treated us to Ben & Jerry’s ice cream, and THEN we all sat down to watch Bear Grylls in “Man vs. Wild”. It’s only, like, our most favorite show. And now, dear internets, I am going to go to bed and dream of the ocean.
But before I do, I’ll leave you with a little excerpt from my diary, circa ’87. Even before blogging existed, I was doing it! Get ready for a peak into a 15 year old girl’s mind. Don’t worry about hurting my feelings if you laugh at me, I can take it.
“In the past week, the only thing notable is that on Wed., a guy named B., a junior in my high school, asked me out. He said it very romantically (that’s sarcastic-I get that way a lot. It bugs a lot of people too. Especially J. Ha! J.! Remind me to tell you about him!) B. mumbled “I’ve put this off too long” then said, “Will you go out with me?” just like I would say to someone ‘Would you like a sandwich’. I got this awful feeling inside. I can’t figure out why. Maybe because of my last encounter with ‘going out’. Of course, J. was involved…”
Did I agree to go out with B.? Who is J., and what happened the last time we ‘went out’? This diary is like the funniest, most dramatic soap opera ever!
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