If the previous day was about being overwhelmed, then chalk one up for insomnia. I woke up crazy early and knew I wasn't going to get back to sleep. So I got up made coffee and took a shower.
Mom has books - lots and lots of books. A neighbor had gotten me some boxes which I used to box up all the books. I tried to pull out all the bookmarks and throw away the books that absolutely no one would want - note that when a large percentage of pages are bookmarked, it defeats the purpose of the bookmark.
My back was already hurting from the previous day, so lugging around books was painful.
I loaded up the SUV, and headed out to donate at the Thrift store. As I got to the exit to the community, I noticed the gates were closed: If I left, I wouldn't be able to get back in.
I turned around and headed back to Mom's.
I wasn't going to lose time - I'm most productive in the morning. So I proceeded to sort and pack and move and sort. I will admit that as the morning wore on, my ratio of garbage to donate went up considerably.
As it started to get light, I walked down to the gates. A man was there in a truck looking at a leaking manhole cover - that can never be good. By the smell, I suspect it wasn't fresh water.
I asked him about a code for the gate and he gave me his. I guess I don't look too threatening, "If anything happens, I've never seen you."
By the time I left, the gates were opened.
At this point, I had nearly everything sorted. I did a few more runs to the thrift store. I almost feel bad about how much I donated. It was a small place and I hope I didn't overwhelm them. I do feel confident that there was enough good stuff there that even if they can't use everything, there will be plenty to be able to sell.
Back at Mom's, I packed all the trash in the utility room and in a few boxes in the driveway. I rescheduled my 1-800-got-junk appointment and continued cleaning. There was a light at the end of the tunnel.
I got a hold of the realtor and her come by. She noticed a few Christmas things left (she really didn't like Christmas stuff out), but said it looked good. Once I'm done and gone I'll give her a call to take pictures for the actual sale.
Reaching a point where there wasn't much to do, I waited for the junk guys. They called and said they would be late but would still be by before the end of the day. I took a peek at my phone and found a bar within walking distance.
I wasn't feeling real hot - lack of sleep and overwork and all... A bar burger and fries were REALLY good. I enjoyed the walk as well; it was a chance to clear my head. It did feel really weird being the only person in the bar though.
There was much consternation over my bill however. They only charged me for the soda, and put the rest on as gratuity. Whatever ... they were nice to me and the food was good.
After more waiting and cleaning and waiting and cleaning, the 1-800-got-junk guys showed up. They quoted me a little more than I thought, but I wasn't going to argue it (at all).
I emptied nearly everything out of the fridge and dumped that as well. Some of it had gone all science experiment since my mom had left in a hurry to get treatment back at home.
In a very short amount of time, it was all gone. I did some final clean-up before calling it a day. I may try to leave tomorrow as I can't justify staying longer. I'm tired, sore, and this has been stressful. Very stressful.
I will say this exercise has made me think about our - mostly my - relationship to my stuff. I've fantasized many times about selling everything and traveling on the cheap for the next 30 years. I'm not sure I'll ever do that, but see immense value in getting rid of stuff, of junk. The connection to things that really don't bring much happiness is complicated. Less is more.
More stuff tends to clutter life, not improve on it. I know this sounds like a banal platitude, but as David Foster Wallace said, "Sometimes banal platitudes can have life or death consequences."
I've done what I can for Mom's place and I know it looks better. Whether it looks good enough to sell will come through over the next weeks and months.
Mom had a non-alcoholic cider bottle in the fridge. I'm not sure what it was for, but it seemed appropriate enough to use as a mini, if a bit sad, celebration.
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