“Remoted” Day 357 (Monday)

Pretty glass bowls live on a shelf.

The entire first floor of the house is in disarray. The kitchen and dining room tables are buried under framed artwork intended for the walls, that just hasn’t made it there yet. The hammer and hanging sets are everywhere. Under the dining room table is a box collecting housewares for the Big Brothers Big Sisters donation pickup scheduled for Wednesday. More empty boxes await the call to action in the enclosed porch. Goodbye kitchen and bathroom wall clocks. You have served me well, but the walls in this house are too small for your fabulousness. You’ve been replaced with smaller models so more artwork can fit. Adios oddball candle holders that require display space and constant dusting. 

There is so much more that should be shed, but emotional attachments keep things in the cupboards, unused, year after year. But I can’t part with the fancy glass bowls and the wood bread and salad set, or the Finnish coffee cups, or any of the other treasures Mummu gave me. Some of them were gifts when she married Grandpa Ray. Even though, as Mom once pointed out, Mummu gave many of these things to me when her intent was to get rid of stuff.

Mummu's Finnish coffee set
and wine glasses.

The closet, drawers, and cedar chest are overloaded and could use a purge, but the same weird attachments to clothes exist. There are still a lot of things Mummu bought for me when I was much younger, and even more special, sweaters she knit for me and my sister. Some of the hand knits are amusing, like the coral-colored hot pants and coral and white striped tank top she made for me when I was thirty. I was never brave enough to wear those knit hot pants, but I love that she thought I was. There are afghans and an amazing oval tablecloth that doesn’t quite work on the current rectangle dining table. I’m pretty sure I’ll have these things until my dying day. It’s okay. I think.