We’re still struggling to manage every single thing we’ve accumulated and inherited through a half-century, trying to make new sense of it, creating fresh combinations that suit our family now, rushing to beat the heat, humidity, pollen, bugs and reptiles — a Florida garage is not secure for humans or belongings against any of those — and I fear we are losing.
I notice it’s like the vanishing return of radioactive half-life. The first week you work so hard and reduce the mounds by half but for the second week’s same effort, you get only half as much reduction, and so on, and so on as the payoff for time spent shrinks exponentially, and I’m to that point where I realize this is my new endless reality, but then again, at least it’s better than Sisyphus (do fundamentalists believe that religious story was literally true too, I wonder?) because at least the WHOLE rock and the WHOLE mountain don’t face me anew every damn morning.
What we’ve already brought inside and unpacked onto the new floors in the changed room use plan is all wonderful and beautiful, but it’s disconcertingly odd and I don’t have comfy routines set up to make anything easy yet. Answering the phone, where IS it?? The only refrigerator is still in the garage, and our kitchen cabinets were stuffed with breakables we chose not to wrap and pack, so nothing is in the right place for everyday marketing and cooking and snacks. In other words, it’s all upside down and inside out, still, and this is going into the third month of living like this. I am “home” but most of my waking hours are being spent outside working away to seemingly little effect, in the chaotic, dust-and-pollen saturated, southwestern-exposed garage.
How many more hundreds of books can I possibly bear to part with?
Talk about being punished by rewards. I’m developing a whole new appreciation for that concept! :-0