The LAST box! No, I lie.
Aug. 10th, 2021 07:25 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mishaday It's been months, and today I finally emptied the last box... only it wasn't.
Today I emptied and broke down the two big wardrobe boxes. One of them held two lamps, a spinning wheel and eight pillows. (Sadly, I have replaced all of those with newer pillows whilst in New Mexico, and pillows are frustratingly hard to dispose of. I hate putting them in the garbage, but NO ONE wants them.) Now, this WAS the last of the large cardboard. On the other hand, all of my books... ok, 95% of my books are still in their boxes, with the boxes tucked away on the shelves. Mostly for lack of space in which to unpack, but let's not go there.
And yes, I've been back here three months now. It gets complicated. I keep going... Wait, it is too much. Let's back up.
Mom and Dad tried to move to the PNW 15 years ago. Failed. But the attempt involved a 10x20 storage unit in Belfair filled to the brim, which is about a 2 hour drive around through Tacoma onto the Kitsap Peninsula. (Or involves a ferry trip. There are several options, but in summer it's usually with an additional wait.) Trips to visit the children and grandchildren would sometimes involve a trip to the storage unit to fetch some such another thing. (and then my brother throwing away half of the box of old plastic toys because the plastic had degraded so much.)
But what is left... ah. I'd sort of been chipping away at it over the years, but it's hardly convenient. More recently in New Mexico,when I had got my head around the parental finances, I took over the storage unit payment. Yeah, they could not afford it last year and right now Dad is... well. It also gives me the incentive to Get It Done. I didn't want my brother to do it because he'd just consign everything to the trash heap. I agreed that 90% needed to go, but dammit, let me at that 10%! Also, I'm closer, and it does help shield my brother from Dad's attempt at gifting. The latest is 'oh, he'll want the two giant boxes of LGB train sets!' No, Dad. No he won't.
So while I've been going through my own belongings, and trying to mindfully address things that I'd heretofore squirreled away, I've also been going over to the Kitsap Peninsula and weeding through my parent's shit. My first estimation of a time or two has since been hit upside the head by the Reality Bat. Months and several trips later, an end is in sight. I have had a few sidetracks, like two weeks ago, when I spent an hour waiting for the ferry, and only realized while we were docking that I'd forgotten the storage unit key.
Saturday was the redo of that aborted trip. Bookcases, tool chests and some very nice blanket chests went off to Habitat for Humanity, while a carload of art came back with me. Half of that, (the crappy watercolors my grandparents produced in retirement) went to Goodwill. But I had to open and review all of that giant pile of nicely packed up (and numbered. Mom had it all numbered and in a spreadsheet, bless her heart.) art to see if any of it was something I'd want to keep. There was one sepia-toned watercolor of a tree that Mom had done that I really wanted.
And the kicker is: some things aren't simple trash. There were so many boxes of really nice china that I took to the local thrift store. The furniture to HH. Friends of SPL took 22 boxes of my parents books in July. Today, I brought a crate of old propane bottles to the household hazardous waste. And two weeks ago I finally brought a couple of boxes of old ammunition to Lynnwood Gun. There's a box of my grandfather's photo albums I want to ship off to my uncle. Can't just trash that stuff.
I mean, not gonna lie. The whole process is exhausting. There's only so much sorting I can do over there before I just bring it back and then sort here. In my tiny little space. Or out on the loading dock. And I'm limited by car space - which is not a bad thing, since it does make me sort what's in the car and empty it before heading back.
But all of that - I really haven't been focusing on my own home beyond making sure I can work and eat and sleep. And working from home means pants are optional.
Today I emptied and broke down the two big wardrobe boxes. One of them held two lamps, a spinning wheel and eight pillows. (Sadly, I have replaced all of those with newer pillows whilst in New Mexico, and pillows are frustratingly hard to dispose of. I hate putting them in the garbage, but NO ONE wants them.) Now, this WAS the last of the large cardboard. On the other hand, all of my books... ok, 95% of my books are still in their boxes, with the boxes tucked away on the shelves. Mostly for lack of space in which to unpack, but let's not go there.
And yes, I've been back here three months now. It gets complicated. I keep going... Wait, it is too much. Let's back up.
Mom and Dad tried to move to the PNW 15 years ago. Failed. But the attempt involved a 10x20 storage unit in Belfair filled to the brim, which is about a 2 hour drive around through Tacoma onto the Kitsap Peninsula. (Or involves a ferry trip. There are several options, but in summer it's usually with an additional wait.) Trips to visit the children and grandchildren would sometimes involve a trip to the storage unit to fetch some such another thing. (and then my brother throwing away half of the box of old plastic toys because the plastic had degraded so much.)
But what is left... ah. I'd sort of been chipping away at it over the years, but it's hardly convenient. More recently in New Mexico,when I had got my head around the parental finances, I took over the storage unit payment. Yeah, they could not afford it last year and right now Dad is... well. It also gives me the incentive to Get It Done. I didn't want my brother to do it because he'd just consign everything to the trash heap. I agreed that 90% needed to go, but dammit, let me at that 10%! Also, I'm closer, and it does help shield my brother from Dad's attempt at gifting. The latest is 'oh, he'll want the two giant boxes of LGB train sets!' No, Dad. No he won't.
So while I've been going through my own belongings, and trying to mindfully address things that I'd heretofore squirreled away, I've also been going over to the Kitsap Peninsula and weeding through my parent's shit. My first estimation of a time or two has since been hit upside the head by the Reality Bat. Months and several trips later, an end is in sight. I have had a few sidetracks, like two weeks ago, when I spent an hour waiting for the ferry, and only realized while we were docking that I'd forgotten the storage unit key.
Saturday was the redo of that aborted trip. Bookcases, tool chests and some very nice blanket chests went off to Habitat for Humanity, while a carload of art came back with me. Half of that, (the crappy watercolors my grandparents produced in retirement) went to Goodwill. But I had to open and review all of that giant pile of nicely packed up (and numbered. Mom had it all numbered and in a spreadsheet, bless her heart.) art to see if any of it was something I'd want to keep. There was one sepia-toned watercolor of a tree that Mom had done that I really wanted.
And the kicker is: some things aren't simple trash. There were so many boxes of really nice china that I took to the local thrift store. The furniture to HH. Friends of SPL took 22 boxes of my parents books in July. Today, I brought a crate of old propane bottles to the household hazardous waste. And two weeks ago I finally brought a couple of boxes of old ammunition to Lynnwood Gun. There's a box of my grandfather's photo albums I want to ship off to my uncle. Can't just trash that stuff.
I mean, not gonna lie. The whole process is exhausting. There's only so much sorting I can do over there before I just bring it back and then sort here. In my tiny little space. Or out on the loading dock. And I'm limited by car space - which is not a bad thing, since it does make me sort what's in the car and empty it before heading back.
But all of that - I really haven't been focusing on my own home beyond making sure I can work and eat and sleep. And working from home means pants are optional.
no subject
Date: 2021-08-11 04:59 am (UTC)((hugs))