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Cleaning House

And digging deep.

I’m cleaning my house.

Hm. More accurate to say I’m cleaning OUT my house.

How the hell did I end up with so much shit? I believe in “lean ‘n’ mean.” Everything you have packs in nothing larger than one of those small U-Haul trailers, and that’s pushing it hard. I remember moving a couple or three times with only few suitcases and some lawn and leaf garbage bags.

I thought I believed in it, anyway. Guess that philosophy got kicked to the curb a looong time ago. If Marie Kondo saw my house, she’d fall into a fit, frothing at the mouth.

Lean ‘n’ mean no more.

Why am I doing it? Well, it started with the microwave I bought for my office, but let’s not get into that.

So, I’m grabbing and pitching the crap that’s accumulated under the workstation. Mostly paper. Stuff I meant to file, you know? Didn’t get around to it. ADHD does that to you. I’m not looking at it, therefore, it does not exist. That’s why my file cabinets are empty.

I’m grabbing and pitching, slowly drilling down into the pile when I find…

Books. Books, books, and more books. Books I don’t remember having bought, and most still in their shipping boxes. I ripped open one box and it was Stephen Hawking’s Brief Answers to Big Questions. His last book. I don’t remember if it was released before or after his death, but that was in 2018. It’s 2022. Yeah. It’s been down there 4 years.

You think that’s bad? One of the papers I threw out bore a date of 2012.

Treasure, ahoy!

Carole McDonnell’s The Constant Tower. Justine Graykin’s Archimedes Nesselrode. Edward Gorey’s The Ghastlycrumb Tinies. Michael Kelly and Carol Weekes’s Ouroboros. And more.

A veritable shitload of books.

By now, you’re thinking my house looks like holy hell. You’re right.

But you know what? There’s something to be said for ADHD’s interior decorating skills. When it gets to the point where you absolutely HAVE to start excavations, you’ll find the most wonderful treasures among all the crap. Treasures you have no idea you had, much less when you bought it. Pure, pure joy and excitement.

Kinda feel sorry for Marie Kondo. That’s a feeling she’ll never know.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, my excavator is waiting.

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