...the Journal

The Guest
Refrigerator Door

The new magnets are from Jeri's refrigerator. Jeri's fridge has some unusual stuff attached to it.

Another Gorey cartoon

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I'm a Stranger Here Myself

Bill Bryson

I enjoyed his Australia book so much, I decided to try the one about this country.


Battersea Park Road
to Enlightenment

(this is a book I picked up in London)


A grammar school

That's it for today!


15 June 2001

Itís all going.

Well--most of it.

Or a lot of it.

Or at least some of it.

For several years now, our daughter-in-law has made it known that when Walt and I are gone, and the kids are left to handle our so-called "estate," sheís just going to blow the house up.

I canít imagine what it must be like to come here to visit, look around, and contemplate the two of us perishing in an airplane crash or having that semi roll over on top of us and realize that the responsibility of getting rid of all this "stuff" belongs to them. Where would they even start to get rid of the junk.

(Actually I know exactly what it feels like, since thatís the situation which faced me after my fatherís death. I solved the problem by just bringing it all here!)

Well, when they plan to start is now. And where they plan to start is with a giant garage sale. Ned announced that they are having "The second best garage sale ever" the weekend of July 13-14 (coincidentally, the same weekend we will be in Cincinnati, and unable to retrieve any precious treasures that might find it to the sale pile "accidentally.") "I will be over to help you clean up," he said.

He chose a day when Walt was at work, since itís sometimes easier to discard things when Walt doesnít realize they are being taken out of the house.

He and I started in "the big bedroom." This is the bedroom that at one time housed four boys plus one or two foreign students. Now you can barely fit one person in there to sleep, itís piled so high with junk.

In fairness, we have acquired a lot of stuff after Paulís and Davidís deaths, plus things left behind after children moved out, and things we hauled here from either my fatherís house or Gilbertís house after their deaths (both of those occurred ~15 years ago and I swear Iím going to get around to sorting through them any day now).

The first to go were the clothes. All of Paulís and Davidís clothes, packed in huge boxes, taking up most of the room.

"Just move them out. I donít even want to open the boxes," I said, stoically. They are gone. I wonít be there when people are pawing through them, trying them on, or when, after the sale, they are carted off to the homeless shelter. Itís better that way.

We got a lot of junk moved out of that room. Old computer parts that have long since passed their prime, a sewing machine that hasnít been touched in 20 years. Marta thinks perhaps we can part with at least one of the four vacuum cleaners we seem to have acquired.

Weíve left the books. Walt has strict rules about the books. Jeri, bless her heart, catalogued them all when she was living here one summer, so we have a fighting chance of knowing what we have and where to find it. Unless it gets taken off the database, it doesnít leave the room, so we just left all the books.

After Ned filled his car with all of our stuff, I began to try to be somewhat ruthless going through the house here. The two espresso machines that belonged to Paul which had gathered much dust over the years. Outta here. All the cake pans I used to use a lot and donít intend to ever use again--out. Crocheted items that were gifts over the years that I never had any place to put--gone. A bazillion cups that we never use--no more. A large box of cookbooks have moved out to make room for the binders containing all of Steveís on-line diary and the trip photo albums that have had to rest on the coffee table because I had no bookcase space for them.

As a matter of fact, the coffee table is gone too. As is the couch.

Yesterday my eyes lit on the deep fat fryer which fried many a won ton in its day, but which hasnít been used in forever. Itís in the pile. Today the plan is to clean out a closet. Why do we need all those sleeping bags if we donít intend to ever camp again (and I certainly have no plans to ever sleep on a rocky ground again!).

Ned comes over on a regular basis, loads up the car, sneaks upstairs to bring down more boxes that I force myself not to look in.

Weíve gotten rid of an awful lot of stuff and it feels good to "divest." Itís nice to open a cupboard without fear of a cup falling on your head.

The problem is that most things have come from closets or drawers or cupboards and to look at this house, youíd never know Iíd moved anything out.

Iíll save all that stuff for the "THIRD greatest garage sale ever." But it does feel good to finally be making a dent in all of this stuff. Time to say goodbye to a lot of useless old stuff, clear away the cobwebs, and start de-cluttering life.

One Year Ago:
It's too darn hot

Some pictures from this journal
can be found at
Club Photo

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Created 6/13/01 by Bev Sykes