I have a back bedroom with a sign on the closed door: ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK. With a skull and crossbones symbol below. Actually, had is the more appropriate verb at this point. Following relates the two salient reasons for entering the room:
My granddaughter, Rena, is coming to visit in June, and I have no place to bed her. Except. I could get that room cleared out. Mostly junk in there, anyway.
Friend Joan has a piece of furniture I want in that room, but there's no way to get it from her carport into my back room. And in no place other than the back room do I want it.
So.
Joan made a date with me to get started. There were some things in there that I couldn't move by myself. And, truth to tell, I needed a huge push actually to get in there and get started. Just looking at the room gave me an overwhelmed "I can't do this" feeling. And a sort of "I don't want to" feeling.
So Joan hauls stuff out to the dumpster or recycle bin of stuff I decide Must Go. I'll admit that it's hard to let go of stuff when you have the Hoarder Syndrome. It may be junk, but it's my junk. With Joan cracking the whip and demanding a Keep, Recycle or Pure Trash decision, it has become easier.
However, we had to clear a trail to the upholstered chair in the room so I could sit. Standing for any length of time, say 5 minutes or so, is murder on my back. I was able to sit and sort for a whole hour once that chair became available.
I have a chair and footstool in the living room that I want to put in the back room. Eventually there'll be a futon for sitting and/or sleeping. I'll need to get a table lamp for the room, but Goodwill is up the street a couple blocks. Always a good place to start looking for something. Until I can afford a futon, a friend has offered her blow-up bed. Maybe I'll look for that at Goodwill, also.
I thought about posting Before and After pictures, but I'm afraid my readers would be shocked into not reading me any more.
Next on the Agenda: Going through the books and recycling. Books are even harder for me to hand off. I love my books. Getting rid of a book is like tearing a piece of skin off me. But there are books that I'll never pick up again. Reading once was enough. But, dernit, it has printing on those pages, lovely words on those pages, and y'all know how much I love words.
Oh, yes, and there are books that need to be sent back to their original owners.
Decisions, decisions.
Decided there was nothing in the larder that I wanted to cook for dinner last night. So I went to my favorite Chinese place. Didn't realize how much I hurt and how tired I was until I sat down and waited for my take-out dinner. I just wanted to put my head down on the table and go to sleep. Then when the packaged dinner arrived, I discovered that I really-really hurt when I stood up. Hobbled out to the car. When I got home, I didn't even bother to set out the food on a plate. Just ate from the cartons.
There's enough food left for two or three more meals. The chow mein is best when it's fresh, but the fli oops fried rice is good any time.
Bless