Don’t mock me. It was hard. Also, I thoroughly brushed Princess Jasmine Sprite, and! edited the 3,500 words I wrote yesterday (that’s not a bridge, that’s an interstate!), and in a few minutes I’ll do the dishes and then get back to work.
But! Decluttering has happened, and I declare myself Mighty.
Here, have some pictures:
The Before, of the wall over my Mozart’s rocker. The shadow box is full of teensy, tiny, fragile, um…things. All of which had to be removed, dusted, wrapped and put in the box. I discovered that plushies make really good in-box shock absorbers
It was hard, but I am, as above, Mighty.
I then turned my attention to one of the several bookshelves in my office:
It comes to me that I have ‘waaaay too many stones, and seashells, and acorns — and that’s after the Lightning Decluttering a couple weeks ago when much of that stuff was swept off the table. Also, the top shelf was home to a Whole ‘Nother Bunch of fragile, finicky things, including my poor, unglazed Llardo vulpine madonna and child; the Big Chunk of Glass with the flowers etched on it; the ginger jar with the dragon painted on it; several winged creatures; bottles; the Murano glass egg, like a zillion origami cranes (people give me origami cranes; no, I don’t know why, but I can’t seem to get rid of them, either). . .stuff that’s been with me for most of my life, come to think of it. Thinking of it takes me to odd places, and I set some things aside for yard-saling or giveaway, but most of it? Yeah, I packed it.
I may be a hopeless case.
This is what the bookshelf looked like when I was done with it. I trust that everyone Appreciates the artful arrangement of stones on the top shelf.
I don’t, however, want you to think that I labored alone. Nothing could be further from the truth. Trooper was right there, pitching in.
Love Trooper, I see he worked so hard that a nap was in order. I hope you took advantage of this opportunity to nap also since your “boss” wasn’t watching!
Cat Must Inspect Box Before Use.
Theo’s self-packing closet sure would come in handy, wouldn’t it!
Speaking as somebody who has just done a double move (major reno and floors redone so I had to move out, then back)a good source of suitable boxes for bookish types is the acquisitions department of your local library. The sizes and shapes are much more useful than the traditional favourite: the local liquor store.
Also I am amazed that a household of four cats can support so many delicate and fragile ornaments; somebody isn’t doing their job.
Somehow I missed the original discussion. Just why is it necessary to move in the first place? You seem admirably situated near all the stuff you need to be near, and you appear to be able to control why most bookish types have to move: metastasizing bookcases. Anyhow, you have my sincerest sympathies.
For many years, it was an excellent home for us, and I expect I will miss it when we part ways, which is something I haven’t said of a place I lived. . .ever (well, OK; I miss the weird apartment in Old Orchard Beach that I sublet for a month, but that’s more about having lived less than a block from the ocean than anything about the apartment itself). The reality is that years happen, to houses and to authors, and the house is bearing its burden better than we are bearing ours. This is not to say that we’re frail or in ill health, but it comes to me that shifting house when you’re frail or in ill health is exactly what you don’t want to do. We have before us an example of having waited too long to move in from the country, in a close relative. So, we’re trying to be proactive.
Regarding the cats and fragile things — we don’t put fragile things in the way of cats, and the cats don’t break them. Sometimes, something breaks, but it’s really been rare.
What I do worry about is that blue and silver dragon on the middle shelf. Scrabble reallyREALLY likes the blue and silver dragon, and has been known to leap to high places in order to knock him to the floor and drag him away under the sofa where she can Work Her Will upon it. It has tooth marks in one ear and a couple of its back plates, poor thing.
Do you have a trick to get Jasmine Sprite to sit still for brushing? My Maine Coon mixes actually hate being brushed! And I try so hard to be gentle. Their names are Orville and Wilbur (we had just visited Kitty Hawk) and if they don’t want something, they REALLY don’t want it.
Mozart hates being brushed, too; so much that we take him to a groomer. The only thing I’m allowed to do is comb his ruff, and clip his claws, after a Ritual Struggle. Try to brush any further than about halfway down his back, and you get a stream of bad language, and slaps from a paw the size of Montana.
Sprite just likes attention; any kind of attention, really. She isn’t even really awful about getting her claws clipped. Trooper’s a retired show cat, and he will actually come to me and ask to be groomed, which is. . .kind of freaky. But in a good way.
I had to take Wilbur to the groomers and got him a lion cut. He looked adorable and it kept him from getting mats, but Orville took exception to the way Wilbur looked and smelled when he got home – thought maybe he was an evil invader. Orville’s fur is much less fluffy and doesn’t tend to get mats.