I can barely move. Every body part announces its presence with authority.
On the other hand, I have never occupied a more organized space. There is not an item out of place. The vases of fresh flowers do not compete with piles of crosswords and library books.
It's kind of terrifying.
After the Best Cleaners EVER waved goodbye and closed the door, I stood in the kitchen, marveling. There is no To Do pile in the corner of the kitchen counter. There are no books about to be read, no knitting to pick up, no puzzles nor pen at hand.
I can appreciate the lack of clutter. I am more relaxed in this space. I can walk to the library and pick up the book I'm reading, or the crossword compilation from Little Cuter's crew, or to the front bedroom for my knitting, safely stored in the closet. It's not that they are gone, it's just that they are not lying around in public, waiting to be used.
Over the decades, TBG has been annoyed, bemused, resigned, but mostly appreciative of the fact that this is how I live. It's how I lived before I met him. It's how I've lived since I've known him. When I travel for a few days he claims to miss my little piles of stuff. It's one of those It won't change but I can live with it decisions you make in order to stay married this long.
But recently, events conspired to force a change in a habit that defines TBG and irritates me just as much. (Don't ask; I'm respecting his privacy over the little things as well as the big things. It's my first rule of blogging - ask before you reveal. Anyway, it doesn't add anything to the story.)
I enjoy the results of this change as much as TBG enjoyed looking at our Ready for The Appraiser Tomorrow Morning domicile. And so, we've made a pact - we both change.
We will both be rewarded every day. Our living environment will be more pleasant for each of us. It's a way to say I love you. It's giving 'til it hurts.
I'm totally stressed out already.... and it's only been an hour.... most of which I spent writing this and thus unable to leave behind any untoward reminders of my existence.
Oh. This will not be easy at all.
While looking for one of my wind chimes to rehang in the backyard, I found a box of cloth napkins and wooden napkin rings that has been there for years and never used. I tossed them. Tossed a few other odds and ends, redid the cabinet in which these items had sat for a couple of decades and found I had room for a box of canning jars I was bequethed from a departed friend. That box of jars had been sitting on the work bench in the garage since december. Now they have a home with the other canning jars, lids, and rings. My plan is to start jam production as soon as the strawberries come into the market. Then apricot, plum, and maybe peach.
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