Daniel and Sam are off having some teeth filled this morning. They went for their cleanings a few weeks ago (without me) and were discovered to each have a few small cavities. They brought home their "treatment plans" and estimated costs.
I suggested it be done before they leave for the AT. I insisted they needed to practice this "grown up" business, so... Daniel called and set up their appointments. Now they are on their way. The insurance covers most of the cost, but the boys are paying for the rest themselves.
Our garbage disposal in the sink has been acting up lately. The last couple of times it has just stopped, I was able to wiggle the wire going into the back of the unit, and it worked momentarily. Until last night. So with me in the middle of trying to fix supper, Mr. C dragged out all the under the sink junk so he could have a look at it. At my insistence, he turned off the breaker first. (Boy was there a LOT of stuff under the sink... vases, hummingbird feeders, candle holders, cleaning supplies, plastic and paper grocery bags.... sigh. A mess I had cleaned out in September was back to epic proportions!) A few minutes later, Tom made the announcement: "The garbage disposal works a lot better when it is plugged in." I was so relieved!
But I had to overcome my annoyance at his cleaning methods. He just started throwing things into the trash. I was fishing some stuff out as fast as he was throwing it away. He tossed the dishwasher rinse agent... a half a bottle... because he didn't know what it was for. "Why do (I) keep it under the sink, anyway?" "Where ELSE would I keep it? The dishwasher doesn't hold a full bottle at a time!"
He tossed my hummingbird feeders... which worked fine, even if they were so old they had faded to pink instead of red. My cat food dish... (OK, so I don't have a cat!)
Candle holders because I wasn't using them right.this.minute. Mostly, I just let the stuff go, and seethed a few minutes.
(How would he like if I went through his tools that look like piles of junk to ME, and just started tossing things I could see no purpose for?)
Yes, I am a packrat. I come by it completely honestly. I AM trying to do better, and de-clutter, to let things go. But I saw myself acting like some of those people one sees in episodes of Hoarders. My STUFF! I NEED that!
I'm not bashing Tom in this. I am examining my own attitude, which was bad. It WAS a wreck under the sink. We DON'T have any place to store things. Why do I feel like I have to collect and save every memento? I have boxes of home school stuff... and no children to school. I have like 60 lbs. of old photos in suitcases, bins, and boxes. (60 lbs. is a VERY conservative estimate.) I have my Granny's chicken collection... and most the younger family members remember her for her teddy bear or taco bell dog collections, so they don't even associate the chickens with her. I seriously need to let things go. My grandkids will remember me for cows, I suppose... yet very few of the cows in my collection hold ANY sentimental value to me at all. I'd hate to think that someday, a great/ grandchild holds onto some of this stuff out of the misguided notion it was important to ME.
(And if it isn't important enough to me to want to bother my grandkids with it, why am I clinging on to it in the first place?)
Identity crisis here, I guess. Is this a symptom of empty nest syndrome?