|Like The Queen
Whatever happens to strike my fancy, but surely some sort of fiber content.
Thanks for the tip about liquor store boxes -- good to know. And there's an ABC store just up the road a bit from me....
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Monday, July 16, 2007
More of that stuff.
Here is another 80/20 tip from your librarian. 80% of the time, the best box to pack things into will come from your local ABC or Package or Liquor store. Those places always have lots of boxes. They are sturdy enough to hold 6 or 8 full glass bottles of whiskey, or your own heavy personal items, but small enough that, when they are full, you can still pick them up. Unlike hefty produce boxes, they never have nasty organic matter rotting in the corners. Unlike lightweight hefty appliance boxes, they won't tempt you into creating Lazy Man's Loads - too big to move without dropping. Obviously sometimes you must pack things up in special boxes designed for their intended contents - that’s the 20 part of the 80/20 rule of packing. The rest of the time, depend upon Jack Daniels or Jim Beam or Jose Cuervo to help you out.
There are 15 of those boxes on my back porch right now, the last, but one, of the things I intend to take from my parents’ house. Most of them are full of letters, genealogies, or photographs. There are some few sketchbooks and a very small stack of Mama’s watercolors. My job, as family librarian, is to sort through all this, toss the trash, make copies of whatever should be shared by all and divvy up the rest to be shipped to the pertinent sibling or niece or nephew.
We finished up the house this weekend. It wasn’t nearly so hard on Dad to have us pawing through his personal effects as it was last week. With Dad you never can tell what will upset him and what won’t - so it has always been, which made growing up in that house such a challenge - but this time we had the inspiration to bring him drawers and file boxes that we’d de-junked about half way and let him finish off the jobs. Note to self: Keep Dad in the loop with opportunities to be useful.
Since we didn’t have to sort the things that are going to be sold (yeah estate liquidators!) we got through the whole house. With the exception of pulling together a small apartment’s worth of kitchen equipment for a man who doesn’t cook, packing up his clothes and, in the (very possible) event he hasn’t chosen a place to move to by sale date, shoving all his personal possessions into one room, we are donedonedone with the house. Sister is still sorting out tools in the barn, but the loft has been emptied and sister already had the tack room organized and ready to mark as Off Limits the day of the sale. LD has promised to go up next weekend and lend a hand, which will be needed outdoors doing the sort of work I absolutely hate to do. But there - I will read that box of letters and make sure they find appropriate resting places. We each of us bring our gifts to the table.
But just so you won’t get the wrong idea, the one about how nice it is for me to be dealing with a normal family and people doing sensible, even logical things, I offer this proof that I am still visiting bizarre-ville. Yesterday Dad told me that his painter found a home for his mother that costs a thousand dollars a month less than "that place your mother’s in". So Dad is planning (in the midst of all this sales prep) to move mother there and stay put on his rural acres. Or not, of course, because it really all depends on how lonely he gets during the week, with no daughters bustling around doing stuff for him. And Sister had the good sense to tell him to call that newly discovered home and ask them for their base price and level of care costs, neatly putting it in his lap. She has enough to do as it is.
And so. Life goes on. This is my crunch week of the summer, with a library board meeting, a new budget to prepare, TheReunion invitations to get out and ... hmmm. Oh. This white fur on my red rugs? Those thick grey rolls of spider web/dog hair/dust fringing cabinets and peeping out from beneath the bed? The Mount Everest of laundry in the bathroom? I think I’m going to have to get help. Some long time ago I had to bid farewell to the More$butMarvelous Sheryl, who’s 2007 prices stepped beyond my personal bankruptcy line. The housecleaning burden fell back upon my hands, causing only minor dismay. The truth is, I was in the mood to get to know my house again, the way only the person who cleans a house gets to know it. I’m still not ready to scrounge up the $ to ask the +$bMS back on a regular basis, but I think, with all that’s on my plate this summer, I’d like to have her in that weekend before TheReunion, to help me make this place fit for non-residents.
Knitting? Christmas Socks? Oh yes. Well. I had to rip the second sock I was working on. Cast on and got about 3 inches of the leg done. It’s just a blue ribbed man’s sock. Not worth a photo. And speaking of photos - maybe I can get through a box of them right now.
Ta. Happy Monday! posted by Bess | 6:41 AM