I've been thinking about the old saying, "You have to break a few eggs to make an omelet," as I organize the house. Tonight is a "broken egg" phase in the process, but it's true: I can't clean it up if I don't know what it is. Nearly everything is out of my mom's room, and I can't tell you what a monumental achievement that is. It's a shame it wasn't nice like that while she was living in it. The room is massive, something that was hard to see when it was filled wall to wall and floor to ceiling with stuff, mostly clothes.
I'm over caring what I take home with me, with a few exceptions. Now that I'm in home-travel countdown mode, I am nervous that I won't find something or I'll forget to take an important item with me. I inherited my mom's china and crystal, which are beautiful, but I'm terrified to put them in the car and try to get them back. My brother said, "They're yours now; you can do whatever you want to them." Well, yes, that's true, but I don't want to break them. I'm doing layers of bubble wrap for the dishes and packing peanuts for the glassware. Still, I'm not sure it will make it intact over 800 miles.
Somewhere in this house is my mom's silver, which is also mine. I can't find it. My son is going to help me look around the attics tomorrow. I'm off to make an omelet.
No comments:
Post a Comment