Well, our lists are still long. We’ve done less than I planned, but isn’t that how it always goes?
However, today, last but not least (actually its not last, but it’s the one thing that must get done in this three-days-of-hell-spree) we face the dragon. We stare down the belly of the beast. We clean the basement.
How it works around here is thus, things that Sparky does not like to see get banished. By that I mean anything and everything. From plant pots to gelb sacks that were forgotten to any sort of cardboard. Sparky hates cardboard.
After our last basement clean up, Sparky promised not to take something down that didn’t have a space. I built shelving units and made labels. All he had to do was read the labels. I know how much stuff we have and I know where it needs to go. I’m a mover’s daughter, I think spatially.
Sparky however thinks a little differently. He doesn’t care as long as he doesn’t have to see it and seeing it hurts him more than any of us can know. I mean that seriously.
Why is this Sparky’s job? Why don’t I just take the stuff down if I want it to go into the right place? This is Sparky’s thing for two reasons. One is his uncontrollable need to remove offending items immediately. He can wait a few minutes sometimes, but mostly, if it has touched his mind that the object needs to be removed from his sight, not much can delay him without his skin breaking out in hives. As its his skin that burns, I’m not usually in a big hurry, so I’d take it down much later. And two, I don’t do it because I’m afraid of our basement. If you’ve seen our basement, you understand. It’s where serial killers and Nazi ghosts hide.
So it gets tossed into the land of no return.
Well, today, we journey into that land and I hope we return.
Last august, when I was in Cali, Sparky had a list that included removing all cardboard from the basement. Surprisingly, this task was not completed. (Anyone surprised?)
So, we have over a years worth of Sparky shove in a 6×9 space. Including and not limited to, house paint, Nazi ghost, crates my artwork came in, luggage, air mattresses, broken-down cardboard, gelb sacks, serial killer, plant pots, dirt, spiders, computer boxes, dragon eggs, plastic boxes, summer tires, toilet seats, replacement parts, bats and garden tools.
If I don’t come back, please tell my family I loved them.