Six years of files. Not pretty.
But I’ve gone through every other room in the house (mostly, that is) and sorted, streamlined, and sweated through cupboards and hidden stashes. Really the only (big) thing left was…the office stuff.
And I have decided that to offset the lurking house-hunting frustration and impatience, I should focus instead on getting ready to move. For once cleaning out the excess before I move instead of boxing it all up, hauling it all to the next house, and then sitting down to purge the unneccesary and unwanted. That sounds like a worthy endeavor, doesn’t it?
Yes, I thought so, too.
Also, there is the part of me that knows I won’t be doing any cleaning of this sort for a long time once Baby #3 comes along.
So, despite my fear and trepidation and general unwillingness, today we used the bulk of our ‘family time’ to sort through the files.
Oh, the pile of stuff to be filed isn’t so bad. Most of our bills are electronic, so we don’t have a lot of filing to do…mostly just the sentimental stuff. And I do that at least every other year. Hahaha.
But, as I said, six years of languishing files is not particularly pretty.
For our efforts, Devo is completely done with his stuff and I have (mostly) purged my files.
Between us we sent one and a half large trash cans worth of paper to the recyclers, gathered together a large pile of crayon-friendly scrap paper, and have a large trash bag full of stuff to be either shredded or (if the weather would ever cooperate and stay cool for more than five hours) use as kindling for our fireplace.
All I have left is to actually organize the files (ewww) and prepare the system for the coming years (give Amelie and Lia their own files to put drawings, etc, in). And, of course, file the pile.
I will overcome.
Despite the crick in my back from hunching over file folders, the afternoon did produce some amusing and forgotten pieces of memorabilia:
- The crisis Y2k, millenium checklist. The Christian version.
- The sermon my Grandpa preached at our wedding…complete with his pen crossing out the names of the people he had done a wedding before previously and writing in our names instead. With a phonetic rendering of Devo’s real name, Dewald. (With a super typhoon, two weeks of power outtage, no fuel for the cars, two houses full of off-island guests, no running water, and no wedding venue, getting to a generator and a computer and a printer and getting them all to print off a new wedding sermon was not as high on the priority list as, say, cooking lunch on a gas stove outside to feed all the hungry people or doing the masses of laundry by stomping on the clothes in buckets of soapy rainwater. We had a most interesting wedding, if I do say so myself.)
- Pictures of the elegant wedding dishes I would have accepted if someone had bought them for me off my registry. I don’t like them anymore, so it’s a good thing nobody did.
- An old loving note from a friend who has since decided that (through no fault of my own, she says) decided she doesn’t want to be friends anymore. (That wasn’t amusing. But I kept it anyways.)
- An old loving note from the ewwww man at church, given to me in the beginnings of his infatuation with me…ten years ago when I was a fresh-faced virginal college student. (That was amusing. But I tossed it.)
- My favorite, however, was probably the article I had carefully and naively clipped from a wedding magazine six and a half years ago entitled, “How to Buy a House”. I find that to be fittingly … ironic.