Lists. I’ve made them all my life. Well, almost. I make less of them now. I’ve run out of the energy to compile as many as before. And, I have come to realize that I have been setting myself up for failure all along. There was never a way I could actually accomplish all the tasks I had listed for one day, in one day, or even in a week.
I’m getting less particular these days. There are little things that hang over from one day to the next, sometimes for weeks or months, before I ever get to the task. Sometimes I just decide I didn’t need to do it anyway!
Never-the-less. The feeling that I am not keeping up, somewhat gnaws on me. And, my vertical filing cabinets (tables, counters and desks) are rarely completely cleared.
Last weekend, my neighbor Charlene, left three boxes on our front porch. Pete brought them in. They stayed in the entry for a couple of days, before he told me that they weren’t supplies for Ghana, as I had assumed, but boxes that Charlene had left for me.
Sometime later that day, I unpacked the boxes and found several all white goblets, dessert dishes, and some assorted cookware produced from about 1950 to 1970. Charlene is cleaning out the storage unit of an ailing elderly aunt. She is going through all the possessions, acquired though a long life of someone who obviously had difficulty letting go of these tangible symbols of her existence.
The reason Charlene brought them to me, was that she knows of my passion for household items of my youth. Depression Era and Forty’s Era Glass and Kitchenware have long intrigued me. Charlene is much younger than me and isn’t as familiar with the styles, but like the good soul that she is, she frequently brings me offerings of her findings.
I have kept some of her gifts, and use the pieces regularly. However, I return much more than I keep, because I can identify with her aunt. I have way more ‘stuff’ than I could ever use or need. I do regular purges, but somehow our home and garage are still full.
It is Thursday Morning, and all the white glass, unpacked form the boxes, still sits on my green carpet next to the entry. The boxes and the 1970’s newspapers, in which the glassware was carefully wrapped, are still lying on the entry floor next to the door. Our family room loveseat presently holds items taken from the Van, which I removed before giving it to Martin. I must decide if they will be put into the Jeep or somewhere else. The kitchen and dining room tables are covered with neat little piles of correspondence or paperwork I have been meaning to get to.
I have let myself become owned by my stuff and good intentions. Today is the day I am going to reclaim the downstairs. I think!
Posted by Judi at June 19, 2003 11:55 AM | TrackBack