I put a full can plus a pile of random stuff at the curb Friday night, and I've got another one waiting for Tuesday. Among other things, I finally threw away the old medicine cabinet, now that the new one has actually been installed and painted around. I had left the old one in the basement because I had this sneaking feeling that we would eventually give up on our non-standard-size hole and reinstall the old cabinet in sad defeat.
I washed all the winter jackets, snowpants, hats, gloves, and scarves and put them in the attic. Including, ahem, some winter jackets etc. that were washed last spring and then lived in the basement for a year.
Planted my herb garden, including lemon verbena, the scent Scarlett O'Hara associated with her beloved ladylike mother, Ellen.
All this feels good, but damn it's exhausting. This must be how normal people, who are not lazy and addicted to reading, feel all the time!
It's funny, I was over at my mother's house a few weeks ago and she said,
"I just don't feel like doing anything today." I made sympathetic noises.
"This must be how Daddy feels all the time," she opined.
"Mother, that's how I feel all the time," I told her. She looked at me in mild surprise, but made no comment. I think she has been under the impression that the children kept me too busy to function properly. Since she only had two children and they were 8.5 years apart, it was a convenient fiction for both of us: that my life is so much harder than hers was.
Now I've blown my cover.