It Only Gets Worse...

I've already spoken of my picture dilemma.  Figured I'd soon get overwhelmed by it all.  And I was right.  Every room in the house--except for the bathrooms--is now totally out of control and closing in on me.  It is actually affecting my mood because I realize that it won't end quickly or well, and that there are dozens of drawers and cabinets and closets filled with stuff that I also need to go through just to bring some sort of organization to what I always said I would take care of when I retired.  Well...I retired...but it's worse than ever.  I hate clutter but am always surrounded by it, no matter how hard I try.  And it all started when I set out to look for some pictures that my daughter needed for information about her past.

The absolute worst part about all of this is that no one can really help me.  I work better when there is someone to hold my hand through it, but the actual work requires ME.   I still have many, many "things" around my house that belong to my daughter, and I still keep bedrooms, complete with belongings, for my grandchildren.  I save them all, not knowing what to do with them...yet, when I ask my daughter, she always says, "Pitch 'em".  That goes against my religion!  I used to lovingly tease my friend and co-grandma, Judy, about her propensity not to throw anything away, but I now see a lot of myself in her.  A few days ago, I dug down to the very bottom of my clothes hamper and found a throw rug that I probably haven't used in 10 years or more because it was beginning to fray, and a t-shirt that my granddaughter created in school--my guess is Kindergarten or 1st grade.  It stayed in the hamper because it required special treatment to set the paints, but I never got around to it.  It probably wouldn't even fit on her right leg now, but how can I possibly throw it away??  My baby Robin created it!  She wouldn't have any use for it now...but...but...

Back when my granddaughter was a baby (no sign of her brother, yet),  I took my daughter and her then-husband to Nashville, IN, for a day trip.  In one of the shops, I saw a framed picture called My First Year, which consisted of oval cut-outs in which to put portraits of baby's first year:  newborn, 3 months, 6 months, 9 months, and one year.  I bought it because it was more attractive than anything else I had seen like that.  (Had I known at the time that I would have TWO grandchildren, I would have purchased a second one.)  I had four of the five slots filled but never put in the final picture of Robin's 1-year birthday.  It has been on a shelf of my bedroom bookcase, unfinished, for a very long time.  A few days ago, I found the 1-year portraits we had taken of the young lady, so just today--JUST TODAY--I finished the project.  Robin is now 15.5 years old.  Gosh...it only took 14 years for me to get it done.  But now, I'm afraid to display it because I don't have one to match for her brother!!  Help me!

This stuff isn't even really important in the grand scheme of things.  I need to be taking care of business so my daughter isn't left with this same nightmare when I croak.  I need a thinking adjustment before I lose track of what is truly significant.  I'm convinced that a day or two of sunshine would help.  All of our snow has gone bye-bye, but we haven't seen Ol' Sol for a number of days.  Maybe things would seem more do-able if the sun would shine.  Praying for that!!