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Demented Diary writes about stuff this morning. I can certainly relate to his entry. B and I -- (B is the person moving in downstairs) -- have been dealing with stuff for a couple of weeks now.

Some of it is clearly trash and should have been put out of its misery long ago. Some of it is recyclable, and we have asked the city to give us a couple more recycle bins, so we can get rid of that stuff more quickly. Some stuff goes to charity--Goodwill or Salvation Army. Other stuff gets hauled to the twice-monthly e-waste collection site.

But then there is the intractable stuff. The stuff belonging to N that would distress him greatly were it to disappear. Books, tapes, old clothes, his deceased mother's furniture, antique software for DOS, extra computer, liquor collection, wine "cellar", that sort of thing. So it gets boxed and stored upstairs (where I live) or stashed in the garage.

The books were put on garage bookshelves so I can find them when a title suddenly pops into his head--not that he will (or is able to) read it, but he will ask for one so he can have it by his bedside. Usually he asks for a scholarly tome to impress the doctors, to show them that he is unique, someone as well-educated as they, above the common herd and deserving of special and immediate attention.

The used furniture I have stuffed into the rooms I occupy upstairs. It's getting tricky walking around in the dark. Or even the light. The cats are not amused.

And then there are the papers. He was never organized, just layering papers in geological strata as they came in. I don't dare throw them out (or even file them) without going through every. single. sheet. of. paper. and deciding whether to keep and file or throw away. They are all mixed up together, and some of it is very important and not to be lost or discarded.

All of this is taking days and evenings to do. B has taken over the tasks downstairs: cleaning, painting, refinishing the floors. Without her help, I'd still be wandering around like a lost soul, wondering where to start.

Stuff. Some day I intend to get rid of it all, except the essentials and live clutter-free, stuff-free. Who needs all that stuff? It's just a burden to mind and spirit, not to mention a lot of work in the upkeep.

Anyone out there need a cheese board and cheese slicer (used once)? A fancy pair of tongs for salad? A little serving basket for individual tea bags? Oh, I could go on and on....

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