Tuesday, September 18, 2018

drivin' in the dark...

... might cause you to question my sanity, as I left home after we ate yesterday knowing dark was fast approaching and I would arrive in the black of night. Going to south Georgia to spend the night in my auntie's house in order to take her to an appointment early today. Due to a major conflict I called the doctor's office  in an effort to grovel and finagle rescheduling for a more conducive date/time. With limited options, I choose an appt for this  morning at 9:00,  which would have required  me to be up and on the road by 5 a.m.. Won't you agree driving in the dark preferable? Yeah, me too!

 I made the mistake one day recently of consuming caffeine late in the day, causing me to be up wandering the house at nearly midnight. It was actually, surprisingly a pretty productive time: pants I needed to shorten, and used the time to rip the hems out so I could cut them off and re-sew. Not that I especially enjoyed roaming around in the dark, wide-eyed, but thankful the time was well spent.

Now wondering if just the act of driving after dark might have been the reason I had a hard time wanting to get sleepy last night. I finally went to bed long past  my usual time, and did not sleep well at all. Some of that can be attributed to that problem of being in a 'strange' place: you know how the first night in a different environment is always rough, not restful. A strange room plus a strange bed, multiplied by ambient light from different sources equals feeling like the truck backed up and ran over you again.

Even though there is definitely some residual effect of  insufficient rest, it has already been a productive day: I have my car packed to the gills with stuff that needs to go to the thrift store. The beneficiary of household goods, linens, what-cha-ma-call-its, collectibles, useless misc. will be a store here that supports hospice programs. I am a bit anxious about the (remote) possibility that the auntie will have questions about all the boxes and piles of clutter filling my back seat and floorboards. But have been practicing vague, noncommittal answers, hoping to divert her interest and attention.

This process has caused me to conclude there is some benefit to being forced to pare down and relocate every 'x' number of years. Though I have never felt I would have been a good candidate for the military life, or a wife/dependent - I see now that knowing you would have to pack it all up and move across the nation, or globe every four years is a good thing. It would certainly force you into some serious decision making: 'how much do I really want/like this picture, or piece of furniture, or child?' Even though the military contractors/movers would to the heavy lifting, just knowing you were uprooting would inspire yoube in a constant mode/awareness of the value to pare down.

I know my mom got rid of a lot of stuff in her latter years, and I think my auntie did the same, donating things she knew she would not use or did not want. It is a blessing to those who will have to make some sad, tough decisions, helping weed through so much accumulated flotsam from many years. Plus those things that have sentimental meaning to you will not have those same emotional strings attached connecting one generation to the next generation.

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