Unpleasant realization: I’ve still got a buttload of Stuff.
In order to show the house I had to move out a buttload – and I did: actually sold, tossed, or donated (some of) it.
Unfortunately, the Stuff that came off the top was the easy Stuff – things that were ugly, unloved, unused, broken, obsolete, grubby, oversized. Like the humongo McGuire desk, for example. Or the books I should have read in college and still haven’t got to. Or the reports I wrote on the job three decades ago.
Now comes the Hard Stuff. My Precious. My many Preciouses, actually. The beautiful bench my grandfather brought from Italy right after the Depression – almost too lovely to sit on. All those things that cost $$$$ and are now worth ¢¢. The art on my walls. The art and gifts made by my kids. Cookware and tableware. Many more books and notebooks. The chair I rescued from the curb and reupholstered into a comfy beauty. My Distinguished Toastmasters plaque. I could go on and on.
Some I will keep, but probably 60% of what’s left from Phase One must go. And probably half of what I stashed in the storage unit to go through “later” must also go.
If I were a drinking woman, I’d be throwing back a stiff one about now. But I’ll wait till sunset for my little dram of wine. Sigh.