If you’ve been reading these blogs the past few weeks, you know that I’ve been converting the room that was my studio for many years into a bedroom for my elderly mom who is coming to live with us.
These blogs get turned over to my web people a few weeks before they are live on the site, so hopefully, by the time you are reading this, the room will be all finished up and ready for our new resident.
But now, as I’m writing this, there’s still just a bit more to do … the final touches of selecting bed coverings, hanging pictures and curtains …
For a creative with a pony, having this kind of project to tackle has been a dream come true … and fun, fun, fun! Although some of that “fun” was a whole lot of work … like all of the cleaning and painting … it was well worth it, because, unlike times in the past when I’ve done a really poor job of selecting a paint color for walls, this time I nailed it! A soft warm sea foam green that just looks terrific!
Then there was all that poking around in local antique shops looking for older, more solid pieces for a dresser and end tables ... pieces that will go well with the gorgeous antique bed from my husband’s family we’ve had stored in our basement for over 30 years … pieces that mom can grab hold of without toppling over, because she’s not very steady on her feet.
But having a pony has its problems, too … I knew when I started that there would be a lot of stuff that would have to go. I didn’t have a problem with that. As I’m writing this, in the next room are boxes and more boxes, filled up and lined up in the floor, awaiting the truck to come and take them away. The truck I called for over a week ago. The truck that wasn’t able to come until the very end of next week ... not a problem for normal people who understand that they need to accommodate other people’s schedules.
But I’m not a normal person. I’m one of those creative types who has been blessed with a pony. And in the next room are boxes and more boxes, filled up and lined up in the floor … waiting … and calling …
Because most of those boxes aren’t filled up with mundane things like dishes or office supplies or never-used attachments for appliances or puzzles and games or art supplies and unworn clothing or anything at all which gets stored away and forgotten in the backs of closets. Those kinds of things are in some of the boxes, but they don’t bother me a bit … they can go and good riddance. Get them out of the closets and make room for our new resident to store her stuff. But those things are only in some of the boxes …
Most of the boxes – the boxes that call to me – are filled with books! Books that were not stored away, forgotten, in a closet. Books that were in my studio … mostly reference and non-fiction … not all art-related, but also other subjects that interest me … books which were frequently pulled from the shelf and opened … books for which there is no room for now, because the space I now have available for my studio is much smaller and there’s simply no room for them.
The space that I now use for my studio actually has a large built-in bookcase, but it’s already filled with other books … what to do …
I couldn’t do anything other than remove most of the bookcase books, and set up the studio books in their stead. And some of the original books from that space were able to go back, but not the majority of them. I also lost some space, because I need some lower shelves left open to serve as workspace beside my drawing table … aaarrrgghh!
So as best as I could, I sorted through and boxed some up … still had too many. So I sorted through again, and, with much angst, boxed up some more … a bit better, but not much.
And – because I have this pony, I went through all those mental gymnastics where I scolded myself for having so much stuff, and shamed myself for being too attached to stuff, and gave myself a pep talk, because what I’m gaining is so much better and more important than any stuff I have to give up … I’ve never understood the mentality of hoarders before, but suddenly it’s all becoming crystal clear, and I have a new-found empathy for what they must go through when family insists they clean up.
I made up my mind to let the stuff go and got it all boxed up and proceeded to clean closets …
But I’m one of those creative types, and creatives have ponies.
Ponies don’t understand physics.
And still, those boxes are calling …
God Bless