But, then that is really the reason I am blogging about the experience–to force myself to get this done.
But there are two big problems:
1) Much of this stuff is now neatly packed into boxes, bins and bags. If I unpack them, they will be loose, with nowhere to go until we get the house finish. It is nice to know kind of where some of the things are, but much of it is just going to stay packed.
2) Many, many of these boxes should have never seen another box. The stuff should have been given away, sold, trashed or used up. So if all I accomplish with this little exercise is getting that accomplished, I guess it is worth it.
My smaller exercise ball. So that’s where the little tyke is.
Mortars and pestles. This is memories of my pharmacologist daddy. They are sentimental. Creative people would figure out how to use them, other than packing them in a box and opening them every ten or twenty years. But, I have to say, I do think of my daddy so fondly every time I see them.
Photos. Waiting to be scanned and saved.
Cables and cords for various electronic gizmos.
Socks. They used to be rolled up in my old CD tower case. Now they are rolled up in a bag. They are going to stay there.
More condiments, spices and herbs. Remind me that I don’t have to make every exotic recipe I think looks yummy if it entails ordering things like pomegranate molasses from Amazon. Does anyone hear vanilla paste? (I was just about to order that).