Natter 72: We Were Unprepared for This
Off-topic discussion. Wanna talk about corsets, duct tape, or physics? This is the place. Detailed discussion of any current-season TV must be whitefonted.
My mother asked me if I wanted my sister to come wait on me hand and foot--I said no, but I really should force her to suggest it on principle.
She just offered! She has a trip to a friend planned starting Wednesday, though, so no matter how sweet the offer is (duress or not) it wouldn't be practically valuable--I need NEED to work out how to drive by Friday (father suggested renting a car that's kitted out for people who can't use their legs to drive--that's a brilliant solution if I could find one...).
Okay, now to bite the bullet and alert the boss man.
My parents, sister, and I talked about dividing things long before anyone died, and--possibly because my sister and I both expressed interest in some things--there didn't seem to be any problems about the things neither of us wanted. When Mom died a fair amount of her stuff was sold in a garage sale, but that's partially because Dad was selling the house and moving into a senior apartment complex. But in the process, a lot of things my sister had given to both of them were sold. She'd always been more in tune with Mom's taste and I with Dad's. Emotions were running high, and my sister was pretty upset.
Dad had been a serious rock hound, and had the second bedroom in his apartment filled with stones and equipment. After he died my sister and I weren't sure what to do with it. But the one cousin who bothered to show [insert whole other rant here] mentioned that she was getting into rock hounding and teaching related stuff at her school. We loaded her car so full of rocks and related paraphernalia that her rear axel almost dragged. So something he loved went to family and education, which would have made him very happy.
People's lives can be so different than their parents'. Dad's dad lived on a farm and left an entire barn full of tools to Dad--useful on a farm, but what's a suburban teacher going to do with them? And, more to the point, where could he have kept them?
I fear a bad scene when mom goes. She is 92 and step-dad is 76 so more than likely she will go first. I have visions of my siblings going in and taking stuff left and right and leaving him without her things around. I hope I don't have to battle them. The whole notion sucks.
When the boys are in their own homes I will start to send things their way. Brendon will want my books and Bobby my tools. It is hard to say on other stuff.
I am not only an only, but my cousins and I aren't close. I have no car. I really dread dealing with my moms stuff, not because she hasn't gotten rid of a lot, but because I will be alone and the logistics seem horrible. She lived with my grandma and grandpa, and has gotten rid if most of their stuff that she isn't using, but dealing with the house itself will be a pain.
I was just commiserating with my cousin about her parents' possessions -- we were comparing notes about clearing out my Mom's ("And she just had one little apartment!") My aunt and uncle have a huge country house (and in-law cabin) that is Stuffed To The Gills, plus they added all the salvage from the beach house.
Seriously, who needs nearly a dozen cookie sheets?
Anyway, it will be a rather intense chore when it finally comes around. sigh.
I still have a bunch of my mom's stuff that I don't necessarily want for me, but I just can't get rid of.
My mom just spent her entire summer letting her garden go to shit so she could spend every weekend moving grams out and getting the house emptied in order to sell it. And I think part of that process was fumigating it and a lot of burning.
She is now, in between still obsessively shopping at Goodwill and retrieving chaise lounges from the dump that she had given to a neighbor, starting to systematically purge the garage and barn, while trying to tame the garden.
I don't know how I'm so lazy with her work ethic when she's arthritic, diabetic, has two shitty knee replacements, high blood pressure, leg cramps, a crappy husband who wakes her up out of a deep sleep when she has a known problem with insomnia.
But, yeah, she's aware of the "stuff" problem and is trying to be good about it. She'll call me up and ask me about such and such, and I'll tell her to just close her eyes and stuff it in a black bag. Or, yes, I'll take it to give to the ed department. No, I haven't wanted that dollhouse for twentyfive years.
Yeah - my parents have the lake house and their 3 story house AND three story barn stuffed with random crap. Like my siblings and I need or even want 15 vintage/antique wagons.
Flew to NYC this morning. I took the subway uptown and spent a couple of hours at the Met. I only managed to see most of the first floor before closing time.
The Met takes days to do completely!
If you have a free afternoon, you should head up to the Museum of the City of New York. Very cool.