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The Calm Before The Crazy

Tomorrow, during the day, I can do the usual homeschooling, housecleaning (still one-handed, alas), little bits of writing, and karate teaching that makes up our Thursdays.

Then, Friday, I shall spend the day one-handed cleaning at my parents' home while everyone else loads the moving truck. Saturday will be for finishing their cleaning, then helping to clean my sister's just-vacated home. Very early Sunday morning, I wave goodbye to my family--including Dev--as they head out to Colorado. Dev will be returning Friday.

I will have four days when my sole out-of-home commitment is teaching in the evenings. While it would be so-cool-awesome to spend all that time writing, I can't focus on that until I do a great deal of autumn cleaning. And I mean "can't focus" as in, "Every time I try to write, all I can think of is the messy extra bedroom, the packed garage, and the crap that should be taken to Goodwill posthaste."

So I've collected small boxes and shall use grocery bags to move said crap from the house to the car. Why small? Because I can lift those with my left hand alone. (I recently discovered I can lug over forty pounds in and out of a grocery cart with just my left arm. Um... whoo-hoo?) And I've talked Dev into moving a pair of filled bookshelves before he leaves so I can properly sort and arrange the extra bedroom, which has until now been essentially a storage room.

Watching my parents pack has put me in the mind to downsize my belongings yet again. My new rule is that new stuff doesn't come into my home unless I want to live with it in a travel-trailer. I have plenty--more than plenty--stuff. Much of it I've kept and stored because... Well, because I've been damn poor in recent years. And when you're damn poor, it's better to keep stuff--for possible use, for trade, or for sale--than get rid of it.

But I'm now far enough removed from the damn poor days to be realistic about what I'm keeping, and what I can discard. I am not, ever, going to make a dog bed from the Dev's old comforter. I'm not spending my time on it, and the dogs don't need it. On the other hand, I'm sure some Goodwill shopper would appreciate a nice comforter as winter approaches. I am not, ever, going to again need a dozen business suits. On the other hand, a resident of the local women's shelter just might need at least one of them as she finds a new place in the world.

So out it goes. As much of it as I can bear, and then a little more.

And that's how I'll spend my "free time" in the coming week.

As for the arm... Well, it certainly hurts much less than this time last week. I've begun some very careful stretches to ensure the scar tissue grows long rather than short. At the moment, I can't straighten my arm with muscle power, though I can make it straight with a little assistance from the other hand. (Note the lack of straightening isn't from pain, but from an inability of the ligaments to fully control the joint.) I can rotate my hand now without pain, thank goodness, but no pressure gets added until next week, when the scar tissue will have both likely grown in place yet still be somewhat malleable. I can't wait to lose the sling next week.


( 1 comment — Leave a comment )
Sep. 12th, 2013 03:19 pm (UTC)
Wishing everybody strength for that move!
( 1 comment — Leave a comment )


Blair MacGregor

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