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Yesterday it was book-restacking. Today I came home from visiting the grandparent in hospital and alighted upon the idea of tackling the Pit of Doom. Aka the cupboard under the stairs, which has been an un-cleaned-out repository for boxes, bags, and collections of crap since the turn of the millennium.
No before and after pictures this time. It was too, too shamefully bad. But in the course of clearing out the piles of stuff - into "Attic" "Firewood" "Donate" and "Dump" sets - I discovered that I had kept all my notes from my Leaving Cert classes. That's eight years ago and more now. And I was an annoyingly tidy adolescent: all of my sheets of notes (and I had copious amounts of notes, particularly for Higher Maths) were in individual protective plastic sleeves.
Saving the plastic sleeves added at least an hour to the evening's entertainment.
I also rediscovered a box full of my childhood Lego (attic: one day, perhaps, I will bear to part with it) and a box full of youthful books such as Arthur Ransome and the Silver Brumby books - I remember reading the Silver Brumbies in the bath, and having to dry them with a hair-dryer once when the book fell in - which went in the donate pile. There was an unopened roll of wrapping paper, a box of books from the parent's college course that hadn't been opened since she graduated in 2000, photographs from a Very Long Time Ago, condolence cards from my grandfather's funeral (twenty years ago), hockey sticks, tennis rackets, camping equipment, dead Christmas cards, and Beanos from 1987. A lifejacket, from my adolescent flirtation with sailing, and kumite mitts I'd given up for dead. Two bicycle helmets. A PC, vintage 1996 - I'm keeping the keyboard, but the thing itself goes to electronics recycling.
And so much dust. DUST SON OF DUST, SON OF DUST, OF THE DEME OF DUST.
That was about six point five hours' work? I think I started around 1800, finished at 0100, with a break in the middle for dinner. So I think I have justified my existence for today.
No before and after pictures this time. It was too, too shamefully bad. But in the course of clearing out the piles of stuff - into "Attic" "Firewood" "Donate" and "Dump" sets - I discovered that I had kept all my notes from my Leaving Cert classes. That's eight years ago and more now. And I was an annoyingly tidy adolescent: all of my sheets of notes (and I had copious amounts of notes, particularly for Higher Maths) were in individual protective plastic sleeves.
Saving the plastic sleeves added at least an hour to the evening's entertainment.
I also rediscovered a box full of my childhood Lego (attic: one day, perhaps, I will bear to part with it) and a box full of youthful books such as Arthur Ransome and the Silver Brumby books - I remember reading the Silver Brumbies in the bath, and having to dry them with a hair-dryer once when the book fell in - which went in the donate pile. There was an unopened roll of wrapping paper, a box of books from the parent's college course that hadn't been opened since she graduated in 2000, photographs from a Very Long Time Ago, condolence cards from my grandfather's funeral (twenty years ago), hockey sticks, tennis rackets, camping equipment, dead Christmas cards, and Beanos from 1987. A lifejacket, from my adolescent flirtation with sailing, and kumite mitts I'd given up for dead. Two bicycle helmets. A PC, vintage 1996 - I'm keeping the keyboard, but the thing itself goes to electronics recycling.
And so much dust. DUST SON OF DUST, SON OF DUST, OF THE DEME OF DUST.
That was about six point five hours' work? I think I started around 1800, finished at 0100, with a break in the middle for dinner. So I think I have justified my existence for today.
