Howdy, y’all. It’s Wednesday.
I think.
Screwing with my schedule always makes it difficult to remember what day it is.
Regardless, it’s morning, and I have a coffee. I’m on my next-to-last coffee pod. That is, until I break into the stash of peppermint mocha boxes I grabbed on clearance last January. Hopefully, I can finish the pods at the same time I finish the bottle of creamer in the fridge. We all know that’s probably as impossible as finishing a bottle of shampoo at the same time as the bottle of conditioner. Then, I’ll sell the Keurig.
When I saw my paycheck yesterday morning, I had to take a look at the budget. It’s not pretty. I think a lot of what’s made things work since February has been the stimulus (which I still have most of) and Shawshank‘s final paychecks and vacation payout. I don’t have care packages to send to his facility, but I’ve replaced that with his phone bill.
I took out a box of basement trash this morning. There’s a few more things down there, but not too much. There’s an old washer and dryer set, I’m sure some metal scrapper would take them. The Christmas tree is up for sale, along with some ornaments. One of the bigger things left? A footlocker trunk I bought in 1995 when I went off to college. Part of me wants to keep it, but I know I have absolutely no reason to do so. None. I painted it, and it’s fun to look at my old artistic style, but I don’t need it. I’ll go through it and make sure there’s nothing important inside, and it can go out in the trash next week.
Tonight, I’ll start to pull all the donation stuff into the dining room. With everything in one spot, it should be easier to haul it outside Friday morning. Over the weekend, I’m going to go through The Great Sort list and mark off what’s gone and what’s not. I explained to Shawshank how difficult it is to do a lot of this stuff. I won’t be able to carry giant contractor bags of trash up or down the stairs, because that’s just an accident waiting to happen. Consequently, I’ll have to make several small trips to carry things to the bag.
My weekend project involves some minor repairs to the stairs. Three of the stair treads are cracked, and I have a dresser up there that I need to sell. It’s a big-ass art deco dresser and weighs a ton, and I don’t trust the stairs.
For a house that feels so empty without Shawshank here with me, I feel like the walls are closing in around me.
