Climbing Stairs

It would seem that the stairs have become much too well worn by my feet in the last few days. I have done approx. 20 loads of laundry-which would be me carrying the loads both up and down from the second story, to the basement and back up, and then, sometimes, back down to the main level. My legs are so worn. I feel as though the stairs have become a symbol for the difficulty I am having in acheiving my goals of getting this place sorted and emptied, as my body is giving out in climbing them, and it seems as though I'm trapped somehow, by the stairs, constantly climbing, but never going anywhere.

It's official though, that Mr. J has TOO MUCH STUFF. He's perhaps what some people (not including himself) would consider a 'packrat personality'.

He has a lot of things. He has so many things, that it is becoming quite evident that his belongings are making it increasingly difficult to continue with the renovations, as they are in the way...they're blocking stairwells, and hallways and there are entire rooms filled with wine bottles. Well almost. There are boxes of things left behind from tenants of the past, there are boxes of things that were hastily picked up off the floor one day sometime ago, there are boxes of things that were removed from his last home (nearly 7 years ago) and haven't been opened since, there are stacks upon stacks of books (well many he has now packed up, but he keeps setting aside some that he may want to read in the next little while, and there is enough to fill another shelf) There is a collection of hand-me-down shoes, many came from his Mother (I dunno where she got them), which I have never seen him wear, but he doesn't want to part with them (we're talking like 20 or so pairs), there is a good deal of things which actually belong to Mr. J's best friend (we'll call him Mr.C), and there is enough clothing that the man could literally start his own chain of vintage clothing shops and run it from his bedroom.

I think Mr. J has somewhere in the neighborhood of 40 pairs of pants, and 60 t-shirts. That was a count I made sometime last year when I attempted to put them all away. I understand he likes them all, and wears most of them....but I think you need to draw the line somewhere.

So my aim for the past day or so has been to get a lot of stuff ready to move into the storage unit. Once all his stuff is out of the way, then its straight renovating, and I don't need to depend on him to do things in order to get stuff done.

I have been washing all of Mr. J's clothes, and my clothes and Boy S's clothes and Cottage towels and linens, and our towels and linens and stuff left behind by old tenants. Then I'm sorting it into piles-Goodwill-Cottage (that will go to Auntie BA to hang onto)-linens and clothes we can pack away for a while-and stuff we're wearing now, and summer. The stuff I'm keeping in ciculation is going into big rubbermaid totes, so I can essentially live out of them for...who knows how long!

Mr. J is having a hard time with the sorting aspect. Firstly, he's not here all day. And when he gets home he's tired. Secondly, he wants to make all the decisions about his things...and not have me rummage through and make choices for him. This proves difficult at best. I'm doing my very best, to respect his wishes for that, but I'm not sure how I can get the house emptied in a reasonable time and do that as well.

I have the benefit of my Mom coming over here tommorow (lord help her when she sees the disaster!) to hang out with Boy S while Mr. J and I get stuff done.

But good grief. If I can avoid going up and down the stairs....sigh.