I’m treading water here.
The house is full of enormous boxes full of packing peanuts, plus five garbage bags full of that bubble wrap, not to mention piles of the things that were in all that packaging. All stuff from my mother-in-law’s house. Some of it, for instance the bowl she always served beans in, can be incorporated easily. Other things, like, for some reason, her butter dish, I can’t imagine using. She used it every day for as long as I’ve known her. For some crazy reason it seems too intimate.
We’ve also got some pieces of art which she wanted us to have. One is quite large and I’m not sure how I feel about it. Perhaps one of the good things about having it resting up against the wall in the dining room is that we can figure out how we feel about it.
We also inherited her odd little round Swedish mirror, which I have suddenly developed very fond feelings for. That’s already up in the hall in the place that always needed a mirror.
At work, too, I feel completely snowed under. I just cleared out a pile of unread New York Review of Books, though, and that has helped a lot. I think that if I can just get my desk cleared, it will make it that much easier to identify and then do the things that are lurking under there, needing to be done.