destashing

Even though a) my husband hasn't actually been accepted to the program he's hoping to attend next year, b) my Extreme Telecommuting request hasn't been approved, and c) we haven't figured out what we're doing with this apartment, we're still all proceeding as if this is all going to work out. I am cleaning, clearing out, downsizing and organizing; a huge bin of baby/kid clothes to be donated is sitting in the basement, and I have spent much of the last couple of weeks sorting through my stash deciding what to keep, what to toss, and what to give away. (Some of it is posted for sale on ravelry, and any of it that doesn't get sold is going to Cecilia and/or Sarah's knitting guild for Afghans for Afghans.)

I've also been going through the boxes and boxes and BOXES of papers that my heilige husband has been stashing away in the basement, and finding, ooh, all KINDS of things. Like the bus ticket for the bus ride from Baltimore to New York during which we got engaged. (Why yes, we DID get engaged on a Greyhound. Didn't you?) A few uncashed checks (Grandma E, it wasn't nearly as bad, I promise.) Random change, unreturned quizzes and homeworks from his high school teaching days, piles of notes, photocopied pages of gemara, articles, you name it. We have a milk crate full of empty binders now, and two large boxes full of shaimos, waiting for the pre-Pesach shaimos dropoff.

Right now I am in the stage of cleaning where everything looks much worse than it did when you started--piles of stuff everywhere, garbage being taken out multiple times a day. And, of course, I have several vultures circling the garbage constantly--my husband tries his best not to look, but the little boys are very prone to the "Imma! Look what I found! Look what I found in the garbage!" Oh look, it's the sharp stick-with-hook from a broken drop spindle! Back in the garbage, please, just because I am mean.

So far the only part of the Grand Plan that has actually been confirmed is that the holy Sarah Peasley has offered to adopt the lovely but aged Emese Cat, who I seriously don't think would survive the flight, much less the transition. She's going to be fourteen this summer and her nerves are, um, exactly what they've always been. Shot.

To accomplish this week: get passport pictures and passport applications for Marika and Barak (his passport expired in July), finish cleaning out office, and finish dealing with storage space. It needs to be empty before I can start filling it up again. I'm not actually packing anything until we have an answer at least on the telecommuting or on the program, and we might not have either until Pesach. I wish I could, because it'll be a lot harder to do this before my maternity leave ends--a week from Monday. It always goes so much faster than you think it will. This time next week will be my last day of leave. B"H for telecommuting--otherwise I'd be a wreck right now. As it is, I'm wondering how I will manage it, but I know I will manage somehow.

In the meantime, I am squandering precious naptime. Back to sorting through stash.