Now that I'm into the final countdown of "stuff-gathering", I want to do a check of the attic. My brother told me there wasn't anything up there (actually, there are three attics here; I'm mainly interested in what's in the biggest one), but I didn't entirely believe him. My kids hate the attic, and in past years I've gone up and handed them boxes to go through. I'm not sure whether it's because they're tall (they also hate to climb ladders) or just creeped out by attics in general. My middle son, the one with the wingspan of a pterodactyl, was here less time than either of his brothers, so he escaped attic duty. My youngest son left on January 2 or 3 (I've already forgotten), and we weren't quite ready to bring things down, or check to see if there was anyting worth bringing down. That leaves my oldest.
I poked my head into the attic on Sunday and saw that in fact it is filled with boxes, some marked, some not. The markings probably don't matter; my grandmother often emptied boxes and refilled them without changing the labels. This is a whole can of worms I'm not sure I want to get into. My son said he would climb up there for me and bring things down, but I'm not sure there's anything worth salvaging. But there might be! That's kind of how I've been with every part of my mom's house. It's such a hassle to go through every item to make sure that nothing valuable -- in a monetary or emotional (I'm blanking on the word I'm looking for) way -- but I've found things that were worth the trouble.
I've ditched the idea of pulling a trailer back to Florida with me. Trailers are expensive! I had no idea. Instead, my new plan is to weed out (again) what I'm taking back and ship a box or two home. If I can send my clothes back before I leave, I'll free up some space in the car. I just made that decision today. I'm not sure I want to complicate the situation by looking in the attic.
No comments:
Post a Comment