Friday, June 19, 2009
I've attempted to start this post several times, but can't seem to find my voice. I think it comes from a low-grade sense of disorientation. We're all unpacked, but I haven't yet found places for everything, and we keep shifting piles of stuff from spot to spot, not quite sure where it should go. Part of that comes from how much stuff already is here - cabinets, drawers, boxes, trunks are all full of bits and pieces, most of which makes little sense to keep as far as I can tell, but this is not my family place and I don't have the same attachments. Will and I cleaned before we started in on projects, and in doing the assembly hall we even opened up the long bench seat and emptied it out. We found wooden shoes, ancient ice skates, a moldy backpack from brother Goff's college days, piles of dirt and mouse droppings, mildewed computer punch cards, cap guns from thirty five years ago, swim fins stiffened by time and weather, and any matter of other stuff. We removed two barrels full of trash, and still had plenty to put back. I also sorted through the four overflowing desk drawers, and after throwing away multitudinous tourist flyers dating back to 1975 (!) and other bits and ends, two drawers were empty. I asked Will about the family's penchant for keeping everything, and he said "it's history!" That's true, but I do wish this history included less vermin poop.