Stage One Complete
This was an interesting weekend. I drove down to Indy with two things to accomplish. One was to take the first steps to cleaning up my parents house; the other was to attend the closing on our former abode. Both were duly accomplished, but neither is complete.
My mother wanted me to start with the kitchen, and since it did not matter at all to me where I started, I did that. I didn’t finish, but I think I removed more stuff than they can replace in a week (three trash barrels full) and managed to get empirical proof that there actually is a table under all the stuff. I mean, I could sort of see legs (there being stuff under and around the table as well as on top), but had nothing to tangible to show that there was a flat surface atop them. Now I do. The area under the table is pretty much clear, around it is much less cluttered, and the top no longer sends cascades sliding majestically onto the pile between the table and the counter each time it’s touched. Mom tried briefly to help, then opined that she was only slowing me down and should let me work, and got out of my way. She took a chair and talked to me, but that’s fine. It doesn’t prevent me from picking things up and either dropping them in the box to keep (a very small percentage), tossing them directly into a trash bag, or popping them through their shredder, which I may have broken by the end of the afternoon. Dad responded to something he found very stressful (my cleaning) in his usual fashion: he went to sleep for about four hours. So I just kept going, picking things up and making snap decisions about them. Most of it required no brain at all, like the bank records from 1988 or the dpartment store charge card bills marked “paid” in 1990, sent to their address at an apartment they haven’t lived in since autumn of that year, in some cases for stores that went out of business years ago. I did wonder how those had ended up on the kitchen table, but in the end it doesn’t matter. What matters is that they did end up there, and are now disposed of. I finally folded after six hours of it, very tired but still wired, and went out to dinner with part of my chosen family. I have to be back in Indy next weekend as well, having promised to perform a wedding, and have promised my folks Round 2 on Sunday. I won’t work as long, since I’ll have to drive home, but I think I can finish the kitchen in another four hours. Even if that proves to have been overly optimistic, I can make a further major dent. The thing that I see, though, is that given my schedule this will take months to accomplish. I’d like a wand to wave, but I’ve none that’s effective against pure mess.
This morning found myself and my father-in-law, both dressed up and looking remarkably lawyerly, sitting in the office of a title company. The agent seemed a trifle intimidated when she first walked in, but when she realized that neither of us was there as counsel all was well. She commented that it was much easier to get through the closing when she didn’t have to explain anything to half the parties to the transaction. We should be done, but the banks are closed today, so the final release of money can’t be accomplished until tomorrow. Sometime on Tuesday, a large sum of money should magically appear in our checking account. We have opted for wire transfer, as I would spend far more in gas to drive down and pick up the check. But once it arrives, I have plans. They involve shelves and clear storage tubs, so that I can get down to organizing the attic. And maybe then I can get the boxes that still festoon my livingroom unpacked at last.