Where does all this STUFF come from?
I am taking advantage of Cuthbert's absence* to do some housecleaning down in the dungeon -- er, basement.
It was always cluttered, but clutter tends to reproduce, throwing out fronds of papers, books in need of re-shelving, half-finished projects, notes, laundry in need of folding, snack spores, and whatnot. And of course, the new kitten thinks all this is a giant playground to be jumped in, investigated, chased around the floor, and so on, ad infinitum.
So, it's not all cleaned up, but I've made a good start. I've been listening to Lost and Found and old English drinking songs, sipping a Doppelbock, and sorting/pitching/arranging . . .Gads! Who knew I had all this crap?
I've had to start a whole new box for Scout memorabilia. collinsmom
asked if that was more for her retirement fund; we have a standing joke between us -- she asked once what she should do with all my patches if I died young, and I said that was her retirement plan.Sigh.
I keep entertaining fantasies that some day I'll have everything laid out where I want it, and it'll stay that way. The truth is, I've never had to be neat before. About the time we started to drown in un-filed stuff,
it'd be time to move. Prior to our moving here, I'd never lived in any house longer than five years: we're starting our eighth here, and that's great, but, Lord! I'm up to my mustache in STUFF!!!*Cuthbert went to the vet this afternoon for an overnight stay. He should come home a bit lighter in the stern, and maybe that'll mellow him out while he's at it.