The Magic and Surprise of Unpacking Five Years After Moving In

In my case, many things have gone unsorted for a decade or two, at least.  Mostly things have been in the box for about five years.

It used to be that I'd start to sort, see an item that brought up something from the past and it would make me sad or remorseful to the point that I just couldn't face it, so I'd stop and leave it for another time.  That resulted in chaotic accumulation.  And I'd be all down because I couldn't make myself touch it.

I couldn't look at opportunities ignored or family sadness and insanity or the way I felt at some age like 15.  Just could not do it.  It seemed to get worse over the years.  And I never found the right person to help when it came to the minute details.  I had to have help to even touch the boxes or the clutter, which is probably another issue.

Poor Joel ended up getting me moved in and out of places in NC two or three times.  But those boxes went unsorted.  I needed a trusted woman who cared enough not to be too annoyed and that never happened.  Way it is when you have unusual defects that make no sense.

It may have been my own fear of letting them in that much, but I never felt I was in the presence of one who wouldn't be judging, even if trying to hide the fact.  Positions reversed, I don't know that I could deal with it. Positions aren't reversed so there it is. [update: I may have had such a woman friend but wasn't there yet, now that I reflect on it] I've been stuck with me, and it has been my--I don't know--Moby Dick or something. Damned swimming mammal that tried to eat me alive.

Well, I am happy to say that I have willed myself into a different mental mode.  It is a psychic change for sure.  I spent the day dealing with everything from very macabre last will and testament sort of papers, written by me and witnessed by me, to sentimental stuff of deceased loved ones, you name it.

Not a shred of fear, regret, pain, or nostalgia.  Actually, the scariest thing I found--really scary, macabre and worrisome sent me into almost uncontrollable laughter.  (Hey JT, it was my piece of corn under the fridge)

This is trivia to most people, and hopefully would not even compute, but it was like suddenly being able to walk after thirty years confined to a wheel chair to me.  All I felt was how lucky I am.  I did have a couple of trusted friends in the mix.  K and M.  K knew me when I was 16, and she even gets why I laughed at something which painted a very dark picture of where I was a year before arriving on this coast.

M gets it too and he's only known me since I arrived here.  No one else could possibly have helped, and had a blast doing it.  And they wanted to.  They've wanted to for maybe three or four years.  Is that crazy or what?  I'm way older and should be set in my ways and capable of whatever it is that high class neat people do.  I may be genetically predisposed to disorganization, but no one in my family ever approached my flat out, long term negligence.

There is more to be done and they're returning Sunday whether I like or not.  That will be good.  I was freaking out before they arrived today--a little.  I wanted to back out but had set it up so I couldn't.  Now I don't have that going on.

With me it is the most basic life maintenance and organization that throws me for a loop.  And it is the simplest of things that leaves me elated.  Maybe that is good because the simple stuff is not a strain on the bank account.

Who knew that I bought a jacket on my ill fated fiasco of a trip to New Zealand?  I did, and I had no idea.  Also I have a Live! From Sun Studios---the Memphis Snake Doctors tee shirt.  I didn't know that. And I did the art work.  You can bet I'll wear that next time I'm at a musical gathering.  "Oh, that? Yea, I recorded at Sun, same room where Elvis played".

That was cool, but I am so glad I got out of Memphis.  Few people know it is either a suburb of Hell, or else Purgatory.  But that isn't to say there aren't some cool people there.  Don't know how they do it.  And I did live in the best of all possible places in the best of all possible neighborhoods--in my book.  Wasn't enough.

I'd say the people out here, especially in Alpine and that region, have no idea how good they have it.  But even the lifers do seem to know.  Weird when people actually like it where they live.  Never experienced so much of that before.


====so far six Large garbage bags in dumpster, mostly from things culled out of boxes with helpful labels like "John" and "textiles".  No container has only one type of thing.  There were harmonicas, kitchen utensils, towels, tee shirts, and notebooks in one of the 'textiles' boxes.  No one named John is in the John bin.  It was time to trash that tax thing from 1996.  Really, I wasn't in love with that document even when it was timely, why keep it another 15 or 20 years?