30 Aug
30Aug

In earlier years, before air-conditioning, families in our neighborhood used to retreat to the basement during the hot months. When we bought our house in 1995, the basement had a bathroom with shower, a kitchen sink and a place where a stove had been, a closet, a cupboard with shelves, and a partitioned off the back room, where I am guessing that some people slept. 

I claimed it as an area to keep four of my seven sets of shelves, two trunks full of items from my youth, and several large Rubbermaid boxes containing magazines and books.  Here are the contents of the shelves from three years ago (not because I have a great memory, but because I am a list-maker, which I will cover in a later blog post.) I present this just so you can get a sense of what I had to deal with. Your reaction may range from total commiseration or amazement that I kept such things. (Note: Type of saver you might be also to be covered in a future post).

  • Three banker boxes related to my doctoral thesis, plus several more from a follow-up research project
  • A number of small boxes with audio tapes---work interviews and sessions, family letters, and recordings of Prairie Home Companion
  • A banker box of mementos from our wedding
  • Three banker boxes of folders related to workshops I had designed on career-related issues and time-management, including multiple copies of handouts.
  • Box of binders from various work projects from my consulting business
  • Old work-related calendars
  • Shoe boxes of financial statements, one for each year
  • Numerous (did not register a count) from past completed projects from my consulting business

After one of the water heaters broke, causing some minor flooding, I raised the trunks off the floor, but alas, this room always remained damper than other parts of the basement. Thus, its contents have had a tendency towards mustiness. Staples and paper clips rusted.  Completely clearing out this space had to be a high priority. Fortunately, a number of the boxes contained the aforementioned low hanging fruit and were the first to go. (I eventually designated this room as the place to store the things I was definitely going to toss or donate.)

The trunks with their mildewing mementos were another matter. I dreaded having to deal with them, afraid that prized possessions might be ruined beyond salvation and/or that sentiment would freeze me in my resolve to purge.

But after my initial victory with my low hanging fruit, I decided to tackle this difficult task. If I could succeed here, I could succeed in all of it eventually, I reasoned. Besides, it would be like going on a magical mystery tour of my childhood. (Next up: Time Capsule 1, complete with tips for handling mustiness.)

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