This weekend is (hopefully) the home-stretch;final inning (insert appropriate sports analogy here) of emptying out my mother's little--but packed with more things than I could imagine--house. She wasn't a hoarder of every bit of everything; She was a collector--of somewhat discriminate taste. She had a doll collection, a tea set collection, a ladybug collection, a lucky cat collection, an Irish china collection. You get the idea.
I've spent the better part of the last month, nearly every night and some days, spending hours...sorting, boxing, tossing out, lugging home stuff. Endless stuff.
My little workhorse of a station wagon has been packed with stuff from dashboard to rear almost every day. My house is swamped with boxes,bins and bags.
Nearly every room--except the bathrooms--has been invaded with stuff.
In my studio, I've only just managed to keep enough space 'open' so I can reach my easels and paint a little.
Right now, my most desperate desire is to get some small semblance of order back in my house and life. This coming month is my sons' senior prom and then graduation and accompanying celebrations. There's college to plan for...but I know I can deal with all of this and handle it all...if only I can get out from under this influx of stuff and spend some quantity and quality time in my studio.