I’m gasping for air. The accumulation of dust bunnies is horrifying. Every thing I touch is just covered with the stuff — and there is a lot of everything all over the place.
Drew left for Boston on Monday. Before he walked out the door he said, “I’d really like to start exercising, maybe set up the nordic track downstairs but there’s no room down there. It’s a mess.”
“Okay, okay, I’ll clean it up while you’re gone,” I said to my studly, manly hubly.
I started in the far corner. What do you do with cassette tapes, old stereo equipment, and piles of magazines — including every Sports Illustrated Swimsuit issue for probably the past 10 years. Me? I piled them all up in the corner for Drew to look through. Oh, did I mention the pile of old scratched up record albums?
The carpet is pretty gamey. I don’t know how anyone can exercise on it. I don’t even like to walk barefoot downstairs.
Books are piled high on the floor. A few weeks ago I attempted to clean up the books that were piled in front of the bookcases in the back room. What to do? Bring them downstairs and pile ’em up! I’m thinking that a good way to get rid of some of these books would be to donate 10 books a week. I’d like to mention this to my drew but I know he’ll start to break out in a sweat and get all defensive – – – “why do you go right to my stuff, we don’t have to get rid of anything, even if I never ever touch it or know it exists. Once I see it I know I’ll need it.” (Oh, wait, who is that talking me or he? I think we!!)
Drew likes his books, broken electronics, and old credit card receipts. Ah, ever take a look at his night table?
Here I am babbling. Today Hannah sent me a text, “WRITE IN YOUR BLOG.” So I’m writing. When it comes to cleaning up and throwing things out — Hannah is worse than Drew. So I really don’t want to go into detail about my time spent downstairs.
But what I will share with everyone is what goes through my head every time I tackle a new corner downstairs. Whenever, whatever I touch — I hold it high and shout out loud, “What would Steven Ezra do?”
If you know Steven, then you know what he would say: All together now —- “Throw it out, Aunt Vicki!”