A Nightmare on Western Red Cedar Street

Oh, I know, the movie series is called “A Nightmare on Elm Street” but I needed a Pacific Northwest tree name for my street, because, as you know, the nightmare continues.

I started working on the living room yesterday.  It is not really in such bad shape, at least as far as the rooms in our house go.  There is almost no furniture and very little stuff is lying on the floor.  No boxes stacked to the ceiling.  It’s almost a normal living room.   It’s amazing how absence of stuff makes a room more welcoming, which could explain why, when my husband, Skip, needs to work, he brings his paperwork out of the office and into the living room. 

The biggest problem is that we treat the living room as a catchment area for mail and the aging of said mail.  Mail, like cheese, needs to be aged for it to really be appreciated.  Right now, I am aging Skip’s credit card bill.  I’ll probably need to pay it today and venture out into the rain to mail it.  The truth is,  I don’t know what to do with most of our mail.  I should have a system, like look at it right away and decide what to do with it, but there is so much mail that just keeps flowing into the Tracer household in a never ending stream of catalogs, magazines and credit card solicitations, that I am never going to get ahead on this one.  The best I am going to be able to do is to keeping paddling through the flotsam and jetsam.

Progress notes:

  1. I did actually tackle the mess in the garage last night.  I am starting to think that our house on Western Red Cedar Street has more than its fair share of nightmares: the garage, the office, the dining room, my son’s closet.  Anyway, I sorted through boxes only to realize that 1) many of them were mine, because Skip has dragged his into the office; 2) most of the boxes had gotten crushed during the move last year and would need to be replaced; 3) a lot of this is stuff I can live without. 
  2. I did sell one of the dog kennels today.

And that’s it.  I’m not into multi-tasking anymore.  I can do the laundry at the same time that I wash the dishes and that is pretty much it and only happens because the washing machine is doing the work for me.  If I am sorting through the mail, I am not doing the dishes or the laundry, and if I am writing, I am doing none of the above.

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About sma11fish

small fish in a big pond
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One Response to A Nightmare on Western Red Cedar Street

  1. homer says:

    Your son’s closet can’t be that bad!

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