Office Stuff

The bed is coming, the bed is coming! My husband borrowed a truck so we can haul it home tomorrow; bringing it home to reunite it with its matching pieces. The only problem with that is I had to clear a space in Daughter #2’s former room/my new home office/guest room big enough to put the bed. This was not an easy task. You would be surprised what you can store in an empty space large enough to accommodate a full size bed. Have I mentioned in this blog that I am currently between offices at work? I moved out of my office of seven years in November. That’s not exactly true – I was moved out of my office of seven years by my very nice co-workers while I was in the hospital. I really appreciate them for coming to my aid, but they threw away, without regard to my feelings, SO MUCH STUFF. By the time I got out of the hospital the damage had been done and I was left with probably less than one-third of my “office stuff”. (I have considered feigning an illness to see if they might purge my house of two-thirds of my stuff, but have not given into that idea, yet. I may try it when I get around to the garage project.) Some of that “office stuff” is in my temporary office location, some is being stored until I move to my new office, and some is here, in my house, in my Daughter’s former room/my new home office/guest room.

Office Stuff:

• 2 letter-size file boxes full of recipes
• 2 letter-size file boxes full of miscellaneous office supplies
• A bulletin board
• A vacuum cleaner
• A drip coffee maker
• 2 portable plastic file boxes

I brought all of this stuff home because there was not room in my temporary office and I was afraid to store it for fear I would never see it again. My new office won’t be ready to move in for another month, so I have to keep my “office stuff” at home for a while longer. But the trick today was where to move it in order to make space for the bed. Everything is stacked somewhat neatly (okay, not neatly at all) on one side of the room. I will ignore it until I can move it to my new office. What I am afraid will happen is that I have been storing this stuff at home for 6 months only to discover that I don’t really need any of it!

The Stuff I Bought

While cleaning out Daughter #2’s room it occurred to me that I bought all of this stuff. Every item I am purging has been purchased with hard earned money (mostly my husband’s) and given in good faith to the recipient, thinking that she would want, need, treasure, keep the item forever and ever, amen. Did I really think she would keep her maroon bean bag chair for the rest of her life? On that special day when we searched every shop in town that sold bean bag chairs, looking for just the right one did I think about the day I would donate it to Goodwill? No, I didn’t. When I had her baton bag monogrammed with her name and then hid it in my closet until Christmas (well until after Christmas actually, because she got so many gifts that year I forgot about this one until I came across it several days after Christmas) did I think about the day when she would no longer be interested in twirling batons? No, I didn’t. And the tee shirts, the hundreds of tee shirts, the tee shirts she had to have, the ones with obscure indie/alt/punk bands smeared across the chest that we had to special order from the internet – did I foresee a day when she would cast them aside? No, I didn’t. How many hundreds of dollars could have been spared on tee-shirts alone? What about the boxes of angel-presents she walked away from this week, saying, “I took everything I wanted.” Angel presents are gifts, small trinkets, really, given to my daughters every day of December. A tradition begun when they were young and I could get away with giving holiday pencils, erasers, and candy canes but as they grew older the gifts became more elaborate – bath soap, costume jewelry, socks, journals, picture frames. I really put a lot of thought into buying, wrapping and giving angel presents every year and now there is a box of unwanted “stuff” sitting in the corner of my daughter’s bedroom. If I re-gifted it all this Christmas would she notice?

I’ve got to learn to let go; to get over it. I need to take a cue from my daughter and learn when to get rid of stuff. I guess it is easier for her – she didn’t pay for any of it!

Not My Stuff - Day Two

Today I set my goal a little higher – remove/deal with 10 items from my daughter’s room/office/guest room instead of the paltry 5 items I worked on yesterday. These are the items from today’s purge:

1. A gi-normous hot pink plastic exercise ball with a cartoon of Dora the Explorer on it. My daughter has been promising to take this to her house for months, but it wouldn’t fit into her car. It is now in my SUV awaiting delivery to its new home.
2. A silver plastic milk crate-style storage box full of perfumes, lotions and soaps. Most of these were tossed because they smelled “old”. A few I kept in the guest bathroom for guests who might like to smell like a sixteen year old girl or a Bath & Body Works store.
3. A maroon bean bag chair. As tempted as I am to see if one of the dogs would use this for a bed I think I will donate it to a charitable re-sale shop where an aspiring Aggie Interior Design student might pick it up and make good use of it.
4. Washington Quarters State Collection 1999 – 2003 Volume 1 and Washington Quarters State Collection 2004 – 2008 Volume 2. After noticing my daughter removed all of the coins I put these in the donation pile.
5. A cell phone face plate – for use on Nokia 5100 series that we probably haven’t owned since the mid 1990s. Donation pile - on the odd chance that the one person in the world who still might be using a Nokia 5100 series phone happens into the charitable re-sale shop.
6. The 90s punk rock equivalent of the Monkees, Paul Revere and the Raiders, and Bobby Sherman magazine photos I once plastered all over my teen bedroom. Photos covering two closet doors, floor to ceiling - enough to fill two grocery bags, which I carried to the trash.
7. Three throw pillows in the midnight blue and silver celestial star theme that went with the décor before the black hole/punk rock phase. Donation pile.
8. Two bowling pins. Donation pile. Don't ask me why my daughter had two bowling pins in her room.
9. A lava lamp. I am keeping this – there is something about a lava lamp. I am a child of the 70s.
10. Something called a butterfly chair. A very strange apparatus made for sitting. If I can figure out how to sit in/on it I may keep it.

So, a slightly larger dent in a slightly smaller mess; before I know it I just may have that office/guest room I’ve been dreaming of for several years.

It's Not My Stuff

Now that I have inherited an entire room of stuff I'm not quite sure what to do with it. It is one thing to purge my own stuff, but I have discovered it is quite another to purge stuff that belongs to someone else. I walked into Daughter #2's room/my office/guest room no less than fifteen times today with the intention of beginning the purge; it was just too overwhelming. So today I went back to the "just remove x number of things" strategy. It was late, I was tired, so I only removed 5 things today:

1. 2 Jan Sport backpacks one gray, one navy blue - Neither backpack looks like it has ever been used. I will definitely KEEP.
2. A denim Levi jean jacket, size small - KEEP - I can't wear this, but I moved it to the hall closet, because one day someone will need a perfectly good Levi jacket.
3. 2 very heavy Hefty bags full of clothes - The old me would have second guessed my daughter and gone through the bags. I am proud to say I didn't untie either bag. I am going to DONATE both bags even though I could tell there were several pairs of blue jeans in the bags and I had to vanish the thought of making a blue jean quilt. (I have actually made a blue jean quilt in the past. Don't have any idea where it is now. I just remember I went through many many sewing machine needles making it.)
4. A monogrammed baton bag containing 2 batons from Daughter #2's twirling days. She was quite good and I was sad that she quit before she got to high school where she certainly could have been a feature twirler. KEEP - as crazy as it sounds I cannot bring myself to get rid of this. I will put it in the toy closet and maybe one day I will have a grandchild who would like to learn to twirl. (Or more likely, a grandchild who will break a lamp or an irreplaceable antique with a baton.)
5. A Bible inside of a cloth carrying bag - KEEP - I like to think one day my daughter will want this back.

A very small dent in a very big mess, but it is a beginning.

Hostage Update

As O. Henry proved – one should be careful about what they wish for in a hostage/ransom situation. Recall I have been holding Daughter #2's new Ikea bed hostage until she officially moved all of her “stuff” out of her childhood room, now more commonly known as my office/guestroom. Today she paid the ransom. Today she took the “stuff” she wanted. The “stuff” she wanted fit into two large plastic storage boxes. The rest of the “stuff," accumulated over the course of her lifetime, I inherited. Clothes, knick-knacks, mementos of her childhood, adolescent, and teen years, c.d.s, furniture, books and assorted craft supplies are all now mine. As if I don’t already have enough “stuff”. Now I will be cleaning/purging her room in order to make it mine.

There is something very sad about one’s child moving out of the house for good. She physically moved out years ago, but having her things in her room still made it feel like hers. I could even still smell her plumeria body spray when I went into the room. (I discovered this is because I inherited an entire plastic milk crate full of scented bath products.) But now, she has relinquished all claim to her room; she has taken what she wanted and is out of here. It is what I have been asking her to do for months, maybe years. Oddly, I’m not as thrilled about it as I thought I would be (and it doesn’t have anything to do with her bequeathing her “stuff” to me). It’s because my baby is gone. Her room will soon officially be the office/guestroom – and I’m a little sad about it.

Before I can wallow in sadness and self-pity I have to finish cleaning/purging her room. Perhaps it is a good thing that she left me with a job to do; less time to miss her, even if she is only across town.

It's Time to Stop and Get Gas

I am taking a three day sabbatical from the internet and from “stuff.” It is nice to be able to do that. Nice to have a place to go where the “stuff” has been put there on purpose, not “stuff” that is the residue of living in a place for 25 years. My retreat is a small cabin on a lake 45 miles from my home; it feels like 4500 miles from my home. The geography changes drastically thanks to a feature known as an escarpment. Millions of years of erosion have caused the land to give away leaving a beautiful landscape drastically different from my day-to-day surroundings. I drive about 45 minutes, hit the escarpment and feel like I am in a different country. I mentally leave all of my “stuff” on top of the canyon before I descend to my new world. Of course, it is there waiting for me on my return trip, but at least I have had a day or two to breathe unencumbered by the stresses and obligations of my life.

I am leaving this morning for three days of freedom. I feel like a kid on the eve of a Disneyworld trip. Don’t get the wrong idea – the three days will not be filled with crowds and non-stop excitement. My three days will be filled with quiet and solitude, sleep and rest, reading and writing, good food and the good company of only one other soul.

These three days will be just what I need to come back to the “stuff” of my life – my work, my obligations, my stresses, my life. To come back to the “stuff” with a renewed vision, a renewed strength, a renewed desire to keep moving forward in this wonderful, crazy life I have created for myself. Of course, knowing that my refueling station is only an hour away helps.

If the Shoe Fits (Buy it in Every Color)

Yesterday’s blog brought out memories of previous jobs when I found the half-slips stashed in the drawer. Slips I can’t recall wearing since I worked in an office and wore skirts and dresses, hose and high heels. I’m happy I don’t have to wear all of that “stuff” now. Now I wear jeans and tee-shirts and comfortable shoes. Birkenstock sandals and Merrill clogs, Nikes or Adidas running shoes, a well worn pair of Born work boots or my backward-tilting Earth shoes; all chosen for comfort, all going against Daughter #2’s mantra of “fashion over function.”

I used to put more stock in her mantra. As the collection of slips uncovered yesterday proved – I used to dress up. There was a time in the 80s when my legs hurt on weekends because I wasn’t wearing high heels. My legs weren’t used to the relaxed position. I remember vividly the beautiful, torturous footwear I used to subject my feet to. I had a collection of snakeskin stiletto heels, dyed colors only a snake on acid would appreciate: royal blue and black, lipstick red and black, and the sedate chocolate brown and beige. I loved those shoes and they loved me – they made my, then skinny, legs look great. I selected dresses to match my shoes, not the other way around.

I come from a long line of shoe loving women. My grandmother, my aunts and my mother each all but deformed their feet wearing pointed toed stiletto heels during the 1950s and 60s. Fortunately, my entrée into the world of high heels was in the 1970s. I remember strappy four-inch Famolares and wedge-heeled sandals we just referred to as “wedgies” (now that word means something else entirely). And boots. I recall walking across my college campus in brown leather boots with three or four-inch heels. The summer before my freshman year I sewed up a storm making skirts and vests copied from the coeds in Seventeen magazine to match my beautiful new boots purchased with money saved from my part-time job. Today I see girls on campus, my daughter included, wearing flip-flops. (We used to call them thongs, but that, too, has an entirely different meaning today.) Probably a much wiser footwear choice – at least they don’t run the risk of a broken ankle from falling off of their shoes.

My love of shoes hasn’t diminished, the aesthetics have just changed. Give me comfort over fashion any day, but if you can find that comfort packaged in a good looking shoe, I’ll take it. I’m still trying to make my, not so skinny anymore, legs look great. I come from a long line of well-shod, fashionistas; it’s in my blood.