The list of things I need and want to do keeps getting longer and I am functioning at ‘molasses in January’ speed. This isn’t working out. I have a bathroom project, taxes, writing, yard work, a book project for my sister’s art, and estate planning items to finish up. I like to check things off the list and the only thing I can check off as I write this is that I finished hemming some pants.
Another dreary windy day. Enough already. I want snow falling straight down or spring. I suppose I should shut up on the weather front, too many are facing far worse than wind or clouds. Out west, there are mud slides in those areas where they faced unprecedented fires last summer, and horrible flooding in the east.
I am struggling to find the right color to paint in the bathroom. I keep stopping into paint stores and bringing home paint chips, but as of yet, no luck. Some come close, but I have not found the magic color. I once painted a bathroom six times to get it right, and I do not plan to do that this time.
It has been suggested that I write about the emotional conflict I have had cleaning out my parent’s home. It might help others to learn that someone besides them is going through this kind of struggle. I have come upon so many things I knew nothing about. It makes me feel like a stranger in my childhood home. Who were these people? Some of the albums show my parents in a light I could never have fathomed. Then again, they were taken before my folks had any children, so how could I have possibly known them. I suppose I just wonder why I never saw those albums before.
I’ve come upon letters from my mother that my dad carried in his wallet during WWII. Talk about bringing me to tears. I’ve come upon every letter my grandmother ever wrote to my mother, in some the money grandmother sent still wrapped in the tissue it was mailed in with a tiny note. The magnitude of what is in that house is overwhelming.
Here is an unfinished painting by my sister Penny.