I suppose I should just call this Ramblings instead of Daily Ramblings, because that’s really what it is, and, it’s never daily.
I’m supposed to be getting my crap ready for the big Bon Accord town-wide garage sale this Saturday. I did look through a bunch of the boxes my husband dragged up from the basement and wound up rescuing a bunch of kids books. They were all Landon’s and I refuse to let them go. I read those books to him when he was just little red-headed boy. I remember how he enjoyed being read to, how he enjoyed hearing the same story over and over again. Maybe my grandchildren will enjoy hearing them as much as he did. So, those books, they’re staying here with me. Forever.
or at least until senility sets in.
When I look at all those boxes strewn throughout my house I can’t help asking: Where in hell did all this shit come from? And why is it that I have so much to get rid of, and yet my house is still crammed with crap? What kind of lunatic am I? Maybe we’re candidates for one of those television shows where they help ‘hoarders’ de-clutter their homes.
For instance — I’m getting rid of travel mugs, but when I open up my storage cupboard, guess what’s in there? About a dozen more travel mugs! Seriously, all we need is one each! And yet. . .
. . .we have six each. And the really crazy part? We only use one — the same one, every day, because as you well know, we develop favorites when it comes to the things we use. So, I guess I’m going to add some more travel mugs to the garage sale. Somebody else’s cupboard can runneth over with the damn things!
Then, there are the wicker baskets. About ten or fifteen or twenty years ago I went on a wicker binge. If I saw a basket I bought it. Got to the point I had nowhere to put them. They lined the tops of cupboards, they filled cupboards, they held newspapers, magazines, wool, picnic supplies, toilet paper, towels, socks, soap and candles. They held everything. And then one day I got sick of having all these baskets to move any time I needed to vacuum or dust (plus the baskets themselves needed dusting, and I hate to dust so they never did get dusted). So, other than a treasured few (and the really expensive ones) they all got relegated to the basement. I’ve given some away, taken some to the Sally Ann, and held on to a few others for some reason I can no longer recall. These are now garage sale fodder. They’re nice baskets, really. And, they’ll be a good price. I’m sure someone will have a good use for them. If not, they’ll make good kindling.
My grand-kids, Hailey and Timothy, are coming to help me with the garage sale. They’re 5 and 3. I can hardly wait. Hailey is not going to want to get rid of anything. Already she’s been asking me if there are any toys she can have!
Whenever there is a lull in traffic (nudge, nudge, wink, wink) I’m going to get them helping me in the garden. They both love being in the garden, though they tend to be more fa
scinated by th
e bugs they disturb than by the weeds that need pulling. “Gramma, Gramma! You’ve GOT to come see this one!” Followed by a screech and a giggle. It’s pure delight. I’ve got some seeds for them to plant, so we’ll do that, too.
Garage sale, grand-kids and garden — it’s gonna be a great weekend!