13 gallons was the figure I gave with regards to the trash bag a couple days ago. It was a 30 gallon bag, I later discovered, as I searched the pantry for a smaller bag. The weight of the 30 gallon bag was too heavy, and knowing that I would just be piling greater weights into the next haul of garbage made me decide to size-down for everyone’s sake.
It is important to check the bags in question prior to my next venture out of the house so that I can replace them as I continue.
In the past couple days I have filled 3 of these smaller garbage bags. This would amount to approximately 68 gallons assuming each were filled to the brim, but they were not quite. I am rounding up to 75 gallons total including all of the recycling, which possibly would amount to far more than that.
There is little to show for it. My room looks virtually untouched, although I can point out certain areas that are clear now that weren’t before. Although there is ‘more’ to do in here, I have narrowed the workable areas down so drastically that there genuinely is not much worth pursuit.
I have only the update that my grandma has ‘improved,’ although she is not out of the woods. After a month-long battle with covid, to be knocked down so far from organizing pneumonia seems a cruel joke. We still all exist in this realm where it is continued invasive intubation or end-of-life care, and denial and bargaining are both my state at this reality. I cannot handle this, so my anxiety stays high.
Moves were made to start rehashing the downstairs, although something stopped me from taking my things down there and sticking with the project wholly. As the temperatures dropped into the single digits, and then negatives (all this in our unit, the worldwide Celsius has been all negative all day), and the humidity stayed high, the chill was felt inside, in my room. Only one wall is an exterior wall, but I am also directly above the garage, sharing the vent output with it. There is no ventilation there and the temperatures therein inevitably affect the temperatures up here. While this generally does not create problems for me during the winter, and creates a great deal of them during the summer (my exterior wall faces east too), this can be a huge problem for my geckos. They are all the correlophus ciliatus sort, crested geckos, and their range of comfortable temperatures are from 70–80F. As far down as 60 and as high as 90 are okay temporarily, but not long-term. Combatting this cold involved a three-layer insulation tacked onto the exterior wall first, specifically to keep the external weather from bothering the geckos against that wall but to help more generally, but as we have had a couple of these bitter days now, I have taken up using a ballast.
This ballast was acquired in an aquarium purchase. The tank size was unlisted but it appeared to have the proportions of a 20 gallon high. 10 gallons also appear much like this, which is what it was. I’d made the trip out there and paid and picked it up, so it sits on the floor, waiting to be used as temporary housing for a larger critter or more permanent housing for a smaller, or disabled one. It also came with a scoop, a water dish, a cave, and the ballast, complete with obscenely old pill-shaped lights from a company whose initials are (or were?) ESU. They trademarked Brightlight and Nightlight, and one of each light was in the ballast. I decided the other day to just plug that in and turn it on and it went fine, although the lights themselves did not put out as much heat as I would expect from an incandescent, however upon attempting to turn it on again, the “Bright” version flickered out. Checking to see if it was just a bad connection, I unscrewed it a little then screwed it back in, only for it to shatter in my hand.
Today was exceptionally cold, so I sought out regular incandescent bulbs, having checked the ballast’s information. It could take 150w in its fixtures, but I wouldn’t need that — a 40 or 60w would be fine. I found some old 60w bulbs in the pantry and opted for those that put out 570 instead of 770 lumens — it was about the warmth of an incandescent rather than how bright it was, and I wanted something dim. They fit fine in the fixtures and it had no issue powering them for some time. The entire thing sat on the newly cleaned bottom rung of the exterior rack. I did not trust it not to start the floor or unintelligently placed cardboard on the rung above it on fire, so babysat it. This kept me from the deep reorganization of my junk downstairs, while the bitter cold kept me out of the garage. Ultimately, the setup did keep the critter corner adequately warm.
Instead of getting deep into the Junk downstairs, some boxes were brought up to my room to be dug through. Throw out more, pull some items that would fit in my friend’s next garage sale. Lost track of the goal once or twice and had to go back and remove objects from boxes that were going into the garbage.
Each smaller bag in the larger back also contains some amount of hand-shredded paper — a useless skill I developed and thus will use — and after some time my hands began to protest the dryness. There’s nothing visual about it, but I would also rather it not get to that point. Options are coconut oil, or…Carmex. The latter contains lanolin oil (from sheep) and during a previous injury I realized that nothing hydrated my skin quite like it, so I am opting for that. Plus it has that signature smell that I seem to like.
It is frustrating to spend so much time and effort doing something only to be unable to see the result of it. In a way, the bags themselves are evidence enough, but there is this drive to keep getting rid of more. All in due time, it is silly to underwrite the work done after all.
With another day and night of cold, it is likely that the box moving will continue. Perhaps it would work to obtain a box or two from the garage as well, as the activity overheats me fairly quickly and a barefoot step onto the freezing concrete is enough to cool me down.
I was hoping that the writing, as pointless as it truly is, would calm my mind enough that I could sleep. I have been going continuously for over 12 hours and would rather not have to medicate another night…although that is what the medication is there for. Just feeling wound up still, however too physically exhausted to do anything else…except notice that one gecko is slinking slowly down her glass when I am not looking back at her.
Were things different, it would be humorous and quite fun to have backed up a dump truck under my window and just thrown everything out of it. The motivation in filling such a space would be incredible as well, and I can visualize throwing out some rather offensive objects to see how well they bounce in the mess. Personal guess would be that TPE would bounce a little, but mostly flop, silicone would bounce a lot and find its way into the driveway instead, and PVC can rot in hell, but would probably bounce a bit more like silicone. Glass and wood would shatter, metal would dent the container… Finding other breakable objects would be enjoyable too.
Both sides of my family seem to have this inherent need to hold onto things. Everything has some sentimental value, and even if it does not, it is too much effort to look through and decide whether any particular object should be thrown out. Some of this is understandable, with older members having gone through the Great Depression and war time. Generational trauma exists as well, and that carries obviously.
Some of the items I found earlier were my great grandma’s. Both of them that I knew, actually, although just one item from one of them. In going through them I realized I had no real connection to these items, they didn’t enhance my memories at all, definitely nothing close to having cards written from them, or pictures of them. It was just…stuff that they had collected that found its way to me by my choice. Few items were selected to stay, the others are garage-sale-material. For the great grandma that I have only one item from, I’m keeping that. Thinking about it, she was the one who didn’t collect as much. The other I had a good handful of items from and she was definitely a collector, something her daughter swore off so that her next of kin would not be stuck dealing with such a mess.
Interestingly, having helped that daughter — my grandma — move, I realized she too has an enormous amount of things. Different things, but still things. My mom collects a lot as well, and often sends me little kitschy things. As we talked the other night about grandma’s health and I expressed my need to clean, Mom told me I didn’t need to keep anything from her. Well, that is my choice, no?
I don’t know enough about my dad’s biological father to know whether he collects or has hoarding tendencies. We have meant to meet up for some time, although Dad is hesitant given the religious differences and general tension built up over his lifetime. Now my grandfather is dealing with a surge of health issues, so that gets put off for longer. Dad’s adoptive dad was not a collector really, but he lived more for experience than anything else, and booze and drugs go away when you use them and throw out the bottles. I would say “so does the money bet on horse races” but he was pretty good at that one. Dad’s mom though, obviously another of my grandmas, daughter of the great grandma from whom I have only one item, has a great deal of trouble letting things go. There was a period of time where it was a joke that we were getting low on paper plates when we had “only 700.” It is less funny nowadays when we actually are running low — a weird thing to miss as her health doesn’t lend her the ability to do the shopping anymore.
There’s certainly a great amount of space downstairs taken up with my things, although it would be effectively halved if I could toss out the mattresses and box springs. In fairness, one of those mattresses is actually fine, needing only to have the nicotine cleaned from it — I just opted to stop using it due to it being too hard for me (I suppose the memory of having swapped it for my abuser’s mattress and him sleeping on it like some kind of disgusting heathen with no sheets is another matter).
Which is a reminder that my Purple mattress is nearly paid off. Talk about an overpriced bed in a body-bag that I have exactly no regrets spending that much money on. Those little squares are phenomenal.
Despite the amount of space taken up by my things, most of it is actually the family’s unorganized items. Since they are unwilling to go through it, it just collects dust. It is a bit of a dream to reorganize those things, although rearranging and throwing out my things should be a higher priority for me. I have had great, and satisfying, success at rearranging the downstairs numerous times previously, so it is a project I enjoy taking on.
There is something to be said about the satisfaction of attempting to break the habit too. To be the end of the chain of collectors, although it pulls at me relentlessly. Emotional turmoil has helped this time greatly, I just hope that I do not have to fill that space back up with Grandma’s things anytime soon.
Ask me how it will be when I clear the medicine cabinet of things that expired 15 years ago. The goal there will be to replace what is needed to be replaced and perhaps stock up on more general items that I would use too. Perhaps an entire shelf of Carmex… Organizing those items, acting as though I am merchandising them, would be very fun.
Moving forward the plan is to continue to do what I have been, perhaps with a more aggressive approach to the stuffed animals I keep overlooking. Eventually I can free up the stuff buried behind my things and push the mattresses against that wall, consolidate my area against that wall. Uncertain on whether or not the items in the cubby in the garage will end up going there, or the other way? but on warmer days that will also be an area to clean. Ideally it needs to be freed entirely so the floor can be scraped and otherwise hit with some harsh chemicals to remove the silicone residue and other nonsense, like the time the bags of ‘salt’ over-hydrated and began spilling nasty chemicals all over. The other two corners also need to be addressed.
Physical activity through this has been very helpful, although it has not completely eliminated my anxiety. It is just good to use that energy to do something productive.
I will work on the next garbage bag after a sleep. 13 gallons for the littler things, then maybe some 30 gallon bags for well-worn bedstuff.
Eventually, I will have 16 tons.
