Dungeons and Drag-ons...

I'm so sick of paper I could scream! If we ever do this again, I want God to strike us dead with a bolt of lightening and end the misery! We've spent weeks now trying to clear out the "dungeon" for an upcoming re-do -- a bath and multipurpose room in the unfinished section of our basement.

We've been dragging it on for way too long but we're down to the wire now and just can't putz around anymore. The contractor finally has the necessary permits in his hot little hands and we should be hearing from him any day now with some scheduling dates.

As I type, I'm surrounded by boxes and boxes of crap! (With the exception of an empty one the cat has commandeered and hunkered down in.) Throw away, recycle, shred, Goodwill, or save crap!! Checks, banks statements, letters, cards, newspaper articles, magazines. Catalogs, employment, automobile, insurance, and tax junk. And on and on it's gone. It's criminal, just criminal. No two people need all this crap! And that's not even counting all the other stuff. Christmas decorations, good-intentioned craft supplies, excess furniture, yada, yada, yada. Aaarrggghhhh!!

Just when I think there can't possibly be any more, Lew hands me another box. As I've gone through each one, I've grown more and more indiscriminate. I simply can not read one more letter or one more card. My sentimentality is shot all to hell and the reminiscence emotion is taking too much of a toll. At this rate, I'll never finish. So, while I may live to regret it, if it's in an envelope or crinkles, it's out of here. With the exception of photographs and what I've already saved, the rest is history.

It's my great misfortune to have inherited the packrat gene from my father. It's an even greater misfortune that I married the King of Packrats! What a team!