In this house on North Riley Street, I have WAY too much stuff; Glenda* is correct in her assessment of people having too much stuff. I emptied out about six  wooden boxes that had “treasures” in them and now I have two small plastic containers marked “Mother” and “Possible Christmas” – and I also have a cardboard box full of cute little empty wooden boxes. Being the sentimentalist that I am, I couldn’t bring myself to scrawl TRASH or NO KEEP on the cardboard flap; I wrote practically a whole sentence about them being okay, but not necessary. Oh, it is going to take a lot of 12-step meetings to help me.

Maybe I should post pictures of stuff and write, “You want it, you got it.” I even have an idea for the use of some of the boxes – put presents to people in them. Add a bow and, hey, they will think you are creative and then they can either use or toss the box. It won’t be my problem, or yours.

Of course, I suppose I could toss them in the fireplace come winter. I know, I’ll do it on a gloomy day and put a sad movie on TV and watch them slowly char and then go up in flames and cry tears that will fit the day, the movie and my incredible ability to attach memories to inanimate objects.

You probably don’t believe how crazy I can be. Well, try this on for size: I have the teaspoon that my father used right before he died AND THE APPLESAUCE IS STILL ON IT. I know, Daddy, I shouldn’t let people know about this quirk, but it may be the only way I can get help.

*Glenda – Wise first cousin who actually has uncluttered horizontal surfaces in her house.  Oh, but she lives on a farm with outbuildings. Glenda, you don’t have a hidden stash of old Woodrow/Grismore things, do you? Do you still have the first saddle Logan put on a horse, the first band-aid from when she fell off?