The hard part about reaching the end of this series is picking from the limited list of available projects. It’s getting harder to avoid the projects I dread.
Like the linen closet, for example. I still haven’t figured out how to organize the contents, so what I did today is, at best, a temporary measure.
Behind the doors are some blankets and sheets precariously folded and stacked; a milk glass chicken; a portable car DVD system, and two art prints.
I wasn’t sure what was in the top drawer, but there was a lot of it. I found a couple of point and shoot cameras; Christmas ribbon; a birthday plaque; one photo album; several picture ornaments; a box to hold cards; two blood pressure monitors; and two passport organizers.
The second drawer had a memory box; an empty lens box; an old clock; an Amy Ruppel painting; an old laptop; and two totes from a law conference.
The third drawer held a memory box for Mikey; a memory box for Nico; and a video camera.
The fourth drawer is where pictures that should be in frames go to be forgotten.
I would like to say I cleaned everything out and revolutionized home organization by making my own linen sorting system out mod podge and washi tape, but no.
As far as projects go, this one resembles the long, gentle slide of a sad trombone.
Eh. I didn’t bother refolding the sheets. I hate folding sheets. I’m going to Camp Mighty in a couple of weeks, and on the life list of goals I have, among other things: Quickly and efficiently fold a fitted sheet “Gap perfect” without the aid of a Youtube tutorial.
I may make the top drawer my health and fitness drawer, which will allow me to store medicines, heating pads, ice bags, and other wellness items in one spot.
Funny story about the blood pressure monitors. I have very low blood pressure, but when I am pregnant it drops really low, which is why I have the monitors. Because my blood pressure would suddenly drop, my heart rate would take off to compensate. This happened with both pregnancies, but it was worse when I was pregnant with Nicholas, so bad they brought in an experienced anesthesiologist for our c-section. I was laying on the table, braless, makeupless, and wearing a hair cap when my experienced anesthesiologist, a Henry Cavill look-alike my age, ambled into the O.R. listening to his ipod and carrying a new MacBook Air.
He wasn’t the stooped octogenarian I was expecting. Instead, he set up his fancy new laptop, leaned over me and ask, “So, what kind of music do you like?”
“The Eagles?” I answered just like that, my answer really a question because I couldn’t, for the life of me, think of a band from this decade. Then I used my elbow to lift my breast back onto my chest.
He smiled and said, “I like a girl who likes classic rock.”
And I liked that I wasn’t yet hooked up to any heart monitors.
Twenty minutes later we were waiting for Nicholas to come out when I started to feel the familiar ache of a run of tachycardia. My chest felt like dead weight, my throat was tight, and I could barely take a shallow breath. Everyone was focused on Nicholas, who was minutes away from his grand appearance. I caught the Mister’s eye and gasped out “check my heart rate” in the softest voice he has ever heard me use. He blinked a couple times, stunned I could be so quiet. Then he turned to the boy-doctor, who looked at his monitors and proceeded to shoot his eyebrows up his forehead, across the crown of his head, and down to the base of his skull. I got a lightning fast injection and everything was fine.
All this to say, one of those blood pressure monitors belongs to my dad, and I should really give it back.
The second drawer has all our travel gear, including cameras, passport cases, and portable DVD systems.
The third drawer has a few random holiday bits I will use now that Thanksgiving and Christmas are around the corner. I won’t be able to use this as a permanent holiday storage drawer, so we’ll see what this eventually becomes.
The drawer where pictures that should be framed go to be forgotten looks exactly the same. I haven’t decided how I am going to tackle organizing my pictures, and a drawer this packed, this unorganized, and this hopeless deserves it’s own day. It’s the least I can do.
YES! I have put off the great picture purge of 2011 for another day. Be still, my beating heart.
New here? For the next 31 days Iím living according to the famous William Morris quote. You can learn more about the project here.