Today my mind is suffering writer's block, so I'll just scribble and doodle.
Yesterday we hauled out 20 boxes of stuff from our attic, drove them over to an auction house to be sorted and sold. We're about half done up there.
Boy, I sure can get tired of a project in a hurry. I can come up with the best excuses if I'm not enthused, but I'm disciplining myself to keep going even if it's filling just one box a day.
As I lay in bed last night, my muscles ached and weariness was all over me. It's hard work throwing away the past. The more tired I am, the easier it is for me to fall in a blue funk. How can I part with my dolly's baby buggy, and how do I say good-bye to Gramma's mantle clock. When it came time for me to say good-bye to Gramma's treadle sewing machine, that's when I hit the wall. Nope. Can't do it.
When I get to feeling sad about my age, I can't come to grips with me being 65. How and when did that happen? Wasn't it yesterday when I was a little girl standing by Gramma watching her sew me a dress out of colored feed sacks? Life has gone fast, and who knows how much time is left.
Guess I'll just keep on filling one box at a time. A lot of stuff I'll sell, but there are a few things marked "precious" that will stay with me for the long haul.