I ache all over but I think it was worth it. Tim bought a new mini-entertainment center for his room (he shares a house with a couple of other guys) and gave me his enormous old one. He and I spent all afternoon and into the evening shoving furniture. It holds the t.v and all the stuff that goes with it, my stereo components and record player (yes I still have a record player), speakers on top and still enough space to fill it up with the hokey little knickknacks the girls are always bringing me. My computer desk and bookcase sit right along beside. I think I said somewhere that we set our room up as a bed-sitter. It keeps me sane. I love my girls but, to probably misquote The Prophet, "let there be spaces in your togetherness".
We went through all my vinyl and got rid of the records I have replaced with cd's or Rhapsody and some others that people had given me because they knew I could play them. Could play doesn't always mean will play. I kept quite a few; albums that to me are irreplaceable or so sentimental I just couldn't bear to lose them. Tim's even worse. He remembers growing up listening to music with me and many of the covers brought back memories. I thought he might cry but he soldiered on.
Then I started on the videos. I've taped many opera performances over the years. Much of it I will never watch a second time (modern to me is Puccini) and some I've replaced with DVD's. I'll keep all my commercial tapes. Many of them my husband bought for me from second hand stores. Didn't know for sure what he was looking for but if it sounded like an opera, he brought it home. He did very well - I like everything he came in with, including the Bolshoi Swan Lake. It looked like opera to him. I taped Christmas music that PBS repeats every year along with many of their other repeating music specials. Five years of the Boston Pops 4th of July? It's a little excessive as is every televised Pavarotti concert. He always sings almost the same program; only the scenery changes.
Somebody (probably Dear Abby) wrote a column some time ago about pack rats leaving their children an ungodly mess to deal with and I wrote very righteously that I had vowed never to burden my kids that way. First and last time I've ever written to an advice columnist. I was practicing for Blogging Baby and didn't know it. When I looked at the pile of discards today, I realized I wasn't living up to my promise very well.
I'm about halfway finished with my side of the room. I still have to go through cassette tapes, cd's, and dvd's (no 8 tracks - can you believe it?) but that'll be easier. I'll give the cassettes and many of the cd's to Elcie. She has old fashioned listening taste and I have some wallpaper music from the 40's and 50's she'll adore. I like a lot of it too but enough is enough.
Then I'll start on Ray's half (the Star Wars side). If you think I'm a pack rat, you haven't met my beloved. I've gotten pretty good at organizing his collections without disposing of any treasures although I've threatened him with a bonfire a few times. We combined households when we married so we have way too much stuff. He's suffering from trauma at the moment. It took him over a year to get used to the kitchen after I switched the silverware drawer from one side of the sink to the other. Poor baby. Tim and I shipped him off to the living room so he wouldn't have to see what was going on. He's not well enough to help; he has lung problems among other things and we were stirring up a lot of dust.
I still have piles of things but they're orderly piles unless the girls start burrowing. I can walk across the floor now and sleep in the bed; both of which had been piled high. The rest is manageable and I've done enough for one day. Kids ate canned ravioli. It won't kill them once in a while and they love the Chef.
I think I just republished my previous entry. Just ignore it please until I figure out how to delete it. I may have to ask my "anonymous" friend. Never mind - it's still there only once.
Insomniac - just received your comment. Sure, probably all our lives are soap operas when we start writing them down. No self respecting producer would buy them - not enough like "real" life.
Good night L. and Gawdessness. Good night insomniac granny. Good night "anonymous" friend. Good night moon. I hope I'm not too tired to sleep.