I visisted occasionally, even cleared a path to my bed and used it, but there was plastic over the stair carpet for a long time, and strips of wood - indeed the planks for an entire floor - piled up at the sides of the stairs. Not to mention the books (which still had plastic under them even though the rest had been ripped away) -
The only untouched area was the kitchen, which did seem to gather "stuff" (washing up!), and I took great pleasure in clearing the counter whenever I came -
You'd never know that the rest of the room was a total tip, would you? Furniture pushed out of the way, and tools everywhere -
That was before we (er, Tom, actually) got the floor in, to cover the gold underlay.
Making headway with any sorting or decluttering was so difficult - there was just no space for making useful heaps, for that preliminary assemblage of categories. Occasionally I'd see something that could go in the charity shop bag or even the bin, but those were rare. As soon as I entered the studio
(nope, not showing that, too sordid)
a very despondent feeling came over me - and this has continued till just recently, but more of that part of the story later perhaps. Not wanting to be in the room. Not knowing where to start. Wondering how it got like this. Thinking I just didn't want to deal with it. Wishing we'd thought to move things out of the rooms in a more deliberate way (but there wasn't time). Regretting ever buying anything. Feeling a great deal of sympathy, or possibly empathy, for people with hoarding disorder....
|Gradual return of furniture|
We had a deadline - the xmas eve dinner, very important. By dusk, it must be done - all the tools out of the living room and stashed in Tom's room -
Even at this stage the living room was looking (and feeling) so much better - the xmas tree helped, and the ersatz coffee table, covered in The Special Xmas Tablecloth That Grandma Made, gave it a burgeoning cosiness.
|Carpenter and client|
My xmas wishlist had just one item on it - skirting boards. Once they were up, the books could be gathered from the stairs and various rooms and piled around the walls, awaiting their bookshelves -
The rug returned, and a reading lamp, and the chest, and "Dan Hays" and the little lamp with tree branches painted inside. Suddenly it's "Home" again -
Upstairs, Tom's room waits for his return -
The towers of books in little bedroom are elsewhere, and the heap of bags in the "hell hole" is gradually getting sorted -
The sorting job varies between microsorting - those disparate sheets of paper found in a heap and needing to be dealt with - and mere categorisation, such as adding yet more books to the towers in the living room. It's not very efficient to be constantly on the move between rooms as things turn up - much better to have a box for the room, and then move quite a few items at once ... but I'm afraid that system would lead to the box staying where it is because finding proper places for all those things at once would be daunting. Though, thinking about it, it's also daunting to remember just where "those things" were put last time. Probably the emphasis should be on saving energy - and I don't have a lot of rooms, so three boxes shouldn't be an impossibility!
The charity shop bags are on the landing outside the studio, and get taken out two at a time (very, very satisfying).
Yesterday - a dry day - the surplus mop and bucket was put out by the gate and disappeared in no time. How kind of people to do the job of removal.
I am left with some big categories to deal with "later", among them ...
|The books, of course|
|Several bags of notebooks and sketchbooks going back to the 1980s|
- my "external brain"
|More magazines than these, collected for decades|