No Messages For Me TodayI finally became inspired to drag myself up to Toledo to face the house. It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. The house is *knock wood* staying secure in my absence; the house next door is still listed For Sale (not good—it was pending last time, guess it fell through). The Ronganization method is what I'm using to pack up the remaining odds and ends: get a box and shove stuff in. Don't think just shove. None of it is vital anyway—it's going straight to the storage unit.
My objective: empty all rooms completely. Leave nothing behind. The original idea was to move it to the garage, but it was packed, so I skipped that step. I have a carload going over to the unit tomorrow. Everything except cleaning supplies and tools needed is out of there. The garage and basement are next. That's Tuesday, I think.
The one precious object I brought home today was the answering machine. You might wonder why it's so valuable to me—well, my Mother's last phone message to me is still on there. It's the last call she made before I moved in. It's the last recording I have of her saying "I love you". I wanted that.
There are other messages on there, some worth keeping. Others... I probably should erase but haven't yet. All the messages I missed the day my Dad was dying—my Mother's panic increasing with every message. Why keep these? I'm not sure. I just can't erase them yet.
But the ones worth keeping? About a dozen from Ron over the years. Yes, I kept them all. One was Christmas 2004. Another right after my horse died. Another on St. Patty's day. All funny. All endearing. The machine made it home safely, and upon being plugged in beside its identical twin, the machine that was my parents that still bears my Dad's greeting, I was relieved to discover the messages are intact.
Which is good, because when I unplugged the third machine on the strip to make room for the Mom/Ron machine's adaptor, the third machine which I actually use daily for incoming calls, it fried itself.
Oh, there goes the oven buzzer. My Beef Strokinoff is done...
Labels: boring household crap