Monday, August 09, 2004
i have to say...
...I am rather proud of myself.
Not only did I not, towards the end of the garage organizing, just shove stuff to the side, my garage is very nearly totally organized. There are only about four boxes I didn't go through, but they are smallish boxes and I had put them to the side very early in my day o' cleaning, thinking I would sort them later. This was before I landed upon the very bright idea of sorting as I went along. And because they were to the side, I kinda forgot about them until the end. But they are close to the front and I know exactly which boxes they are.
Then again, a person probably wouldn't know that the garage is organized to look at it. It just looks like I stacked boxes along the side and back. But the truth is I need to get new, less beat-up boxes to move my stuff into so that it looks neater. But each thrashed box holds only one type of thing (old '80s clothes, souvenirs, car stuff, things to be eBay'd [is that now a legitimate verb?]) and that is a huge step forward for me. And there is actually room to walk in and out of the garage without stepping over mounds of stuff where I'd just tossed things before.
It may not seem like much, but as far as I'm concerned, I rock the organizational house.
Or I will when I get around to organizing my actual apartment.
And I didn't even get too bogged down in stopping to read every single piece of paper as sentimentality washed over me. Most of it was a quick glance and a toss into the "Keep" or "Toss" boxes (more of the former than the latter). Though one of the boxes - a cardboard letter drawer from the '80s - did tip over and I came across pictures from my days at the bank that I didn't remember taking. And a letter from a guy, CL, I had a crush on in high school with whom I made out a couple of years after we graduated. While I remember the make-out session (I introduced him to the joys of French-kissing, if you can believe that - apparently none of his former lady friends had liked it or were good at it), I didn't remember receiving the letter. The gist of the it? Don't hate him for not contacting me for several weeks afterwards, he's messed up, his last relationship was horrible and he's skittish.
Funny thing is, that pretty much sums up almost every guy I've ever dated. How I've always seemed to attract the "damaged yet sweet" boys, even back in high school and my early adult years, I'll never know. (CL wasn't even the first "messed-up" guy. That privilege belongs to a boy in high school who was a year or so ahead of me and who dropped out of school two weeks before graduation. And CL certainly wasn't the last.)
Still, it was neat to find a few other letters I'd forgotten about, from friends who had gone off to college or were out of town for extended periods. I'll keep those forever and a day, because I'm just a sentimental old fool.
Tonight's agenda? A straightening of the apartment and a cursory cleaning/organizing. I'd like to keep on this roll for a little while longer.
Not only did I not, towards the end of the garage organizing, just shove stuff to the side, my garage is very nearly totally organized. There are only about four boxes I didn't go through, but they are smallish boxes and I had put them to the side very early in my day o' cleaning, thinking I would sort them later. This was before I landed upon the very bright idea of sorting as I went along. And because they were to the side, I kinda forgot about them until the end. But they are close to the front and I know exactly which boxes they are.
Then again, a person probably wouldn't know that the garage is organized to look at it. It just looks like I stacked boxes along the side and back. But the truth is I need to get new, less beat-up boxes to move my stuff into so that it looks neater. But each thrashed box holds only one type of thing (old '80s clothes, souvenirs, car stuff, things to be eBay'd [is that now a legitimate verb?]) and that is a huge step forward for me. And there is actually room to walk in and out of the garage without stepping over mounds of stuff where I'd just tossed things before.
It may not seem like much, but as far as I'm concerned, I rock the organizational house.
Or I will when I get around to organizing my actual apartment.
And I didn't even get too bogged down in stopping to read every single piece of paper as sentimentality washed over me. Most of it was a quick glance and a toss into the "Keep" or "Toss" boxes (more of the former than the latter). Though one of the boxes - a cardboard letter drawer from the '80s - did tip over and I came across pictures from my days at the bank that I didn't remember taking. And a letter from a guy, CL, I had a crush on in high school with whom I made out a couple of years after we graduated. While I remember the make-out session (I introduced him to the joys of French-kissing, if you can believe that - apparently none of his former lady friends had liked it or were good at it), I didn't remember receiving the letter. The gist of the it? Don't hate him for not contacting me for several weeks afterwards, he's messed up, his last relationship was horrible and he's skittish.
Funny thing is, that pretty much sums up almost every guy I've ever dated. How I've always seemed to attract the "damaged yet sweet" boys, even back in high school and my early adult years, I'll never know. (CL wasn't even the first "messed-up" guy. That privilege belongs to a boy in high school who was a year or so ahead of me and who dropped out of school two weeks before graduation. And CL certainly wasn't the last.)
Still, it was neat to find a few other letters I'd forgotten about, from friends who had gone off to college or were out of town for extended periods. I'll keep those forever and a day, because I'm just a sentimental old fool.
Tonight's agenda? A straightening of the apartment and a cursory cleaning/organizing. I'd like to keep on this roll for a little while longer.
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