So I'm trying to sort out/throw out/rehome the stuff in the toyroom/computer room/music room. It's challenging. Stuff for a playgroup who requested toys for theit startup through freecycle. Stuff for a bootsale. Stuff for recycling. Stuff for the bin. And the dump, much as this pains my recycler's guilt complex.
I put a nice Imaginarium drum that plays music and flashes colours in the bootsale pile - I know we have another one somewhere. Bodhi comes in and picks it up, plays it, and croons to it, 'I will never let you go again.' Gah.
There is so much money in this room, in wood and plastic and best intentions, just heaped on the floor. It's scary. What the hell is wrong with us?
My dust allergy is kicking in, though, so a little break is in order. I've just sneezed five times in a row.
A couple years ago I started writing what could be called the beginnings of a book. I don't know. We'll see. Then when the computer died (shakes fist at my brother and his assurances that buying one in parts and having him put it together was a good idea, curse him) I somehow failed to copy it over to the new one. So I kept the hard drive, and he lent me an external hard drive reader. Then I lost the actual hard drive, and it turned up the last time I was cleaning, by which time I couldn't find the reader. Then I found it and couldn't find the adaptor cable (you see a pattern here). Now I've found the cable, and I have all three, but I have no clue what to actually do with them, and he's away in Brazil for three weeks. Ah well. I've waited this long, I can wait some more.
Another horrible fact is how many reams of Olivia's baby-art we have, compared to how little we've done with Bodhi, let alone kept - here's a picture Olivia painted of us at our wedding.
Yes. Shameless maudlin sentimentality, I know, I know.
If you go back to the anniversary post and compare against the real picture, though, I think you'll agree she was quite accurate in her portayal of us. Sigh. Fat Brides dot com...
4 comments:
"We" are clearing our study/computer room too. Actually, Babes is, while I am "watching" the kids. (Cbeebies.)
I should probably get on with some laundry now, which was the plan. Babygrows, little trousers, vomit cloths. Finally! Will get Marie to help maybe.
We also have every single doodle done by Jack, and not so much by Marie. Somehow their every fart ceases to be amazing after a while. I feel bad already for number three. (We're not really calling him that. :-) )
Apparently in child psychology, the bigger a child draws a person in a picture, the more important that person is to the child. :)
I can't bring myself to chuck out child art at all, even if it's just a nonsensical splodge. I've bundled it together into a box with that first pair of shoes, it'll go into the attic to be discovered by future version of same child someday.
rally on! save that art and hope you figure out your hard drive dilemma (never trust a big/little brother).
I love cleaning out rooms. It's like opening a time capsule. I have spent the past 3 days purging the apt. of all our winter clothes and baby clothes to put in storage. It felt very weird packing away the breast pump - like a definitive "my breeding days are done" feeling.
Thanks geeks, I rally.
Mwa, I think the consolation is getting to be the baby - I had that conversation with a class once: being first is cruel hell, being the middle child is secret hell, misunderstood and ignored by all but other middle children, and being the baby is the best - 'you get lots of presents!'
K8 - that's sweet, but I think it applies more to height than roundness :)
Post a Comment