I am a woman on a mission with this cleaning and organizing business. Seriously. I don't care how difficult it is, I feel compelled to make my house more livable. But I do need to tell you, it is bordering on torturous.
Right now I'm trying desperately to clean my room. I have a desk that is piled so high with papers most people don't even know there's a desk there. (am I writing out loud? can't believe I'm admitting to all this) Anyway, I was just going through each item one by one, deciding whether to throw it out, recycle it, file it or find another place to put it. I've found bills, Kate's homework assignments, magazines, drawings Kate and Peter created, old junk mail, etc.
The last three things I found were, in order:
a picture of the two of them taken in 2006 when they were 4 and 2 years old:
a small art project of Peter's from school last year:
and the post-it note where I wrote down Steve's license plate number, car description and the number of the State Police last April 6th when I was trying to find them:
I'm not exactly sure why I'm writing and telling everyone about this experience except that it seems so surreal I almost feel like I need to document it to prove it really happened, and that this is really happening and that this is really my life. Seriously. WTF?
I guess I'm also writing this because I said way back in the beginning of this blog that I was going to tell it like it is and not censor myself. And this is how it is. And I will get through it and have a better day sometime, but for now this is it.
How do I go back to cleaning after that? How do I do anything after that? I'm not exactly sure...but, again, what choice do I have. I have to do something.