God, I could eat their faces.

The Five Upsides Of Hoarding.

A shovel and a watch?! MY FAVORITES!

The whole Getting Rid Of Stuff [People Tell Me] I Don't Need project is still pokin' along. I have no idea why I thought it'd be completed in a night or a weekend or before Nora's presidential inauguration.

There is still a full filing cabinet of scannable...stuff.

And a room full of sortable...stuff.


And, arrogantly enough, a pile of stuff that I'm reserving for the neighborhood garage sale. That's right. I sure as heck don't want this junk...but I'm pretty sure you'd pay good money for it.

But aside from the vaguely nagging fears that I'll one day be buried alive in a pile of old Real Simples and boots that will never fit me (except that they WILL!), here are some upsides of hoarding that I didn't fully expect.

5. I found a full 3-ring binder of notes from a guy in high school that, up until this project began, I did not recollect dating. He was an absolutely appalling writer, but it was kinda sweet to read 'good luck' notes for various cross-country meets and 'can you believe that episode of Friends' missives. And he obviously must've meant something to me since I took the time to organize his notes chronologically and capture them for the next fifteen years in binder form. But then again, maybe not. I had an awful lot of free time on my hands back then.

4. My daughter plays with every single one of my trolls and My Little Ponies. And Cabbage Patch Kids. My porcelain dolls grace her bookshelf (and dresser and end table). My dollhouses are back in Pittsfield, MA, awaiting the correct transpo to the Midwest, much to the joy of my folks and chagrin of my husband. I love that Nora loves playing with my favorite childhood things. Even moreso, I love that my husband- just last night- correctly identified not only the pony named Posey, but also which gardening hat was hers.

3. I came upon an entire desk drawer filled with old day planners. Originally intending to pitch the whole lot, I enjoyed a few moments of mirth at what I used to believe was a Busy Day. (Um, two years ago.) And sure, while I threw out most of them, I ended up keeping pages worthy of framing and/or collaging. The 50s housewife artwork pages, not my daily schedule. No one cares what time I had a failed Budweiser audition. (10am.)

2. The shopping bag full of shells that I've collected from roughly 1989 'til now. The leftover ones, that is. (Surely you don't think my collection could be contained in one plastic bag, do you?) I rolled my eyes at my excessive saving and storing...until I remembered that I'd have three little girls at my house today who LOVE to glue things! Well, two of them do. One [mine] likes to poke at shells. But whatever. With this many aquatic remains, she can fling them at the wall for all I care. One hour of the day- scheduled.

1. As was just pointed out to me by my eight year-old pal, it's good to look back and get excited about stuff you loved and saved when you were little.

Especially when you're really, really old.

We Have A Work Order Attached To The Window By Animal Stickers.

I'm not kidding.

I have some excellent news for folks who are planning to stay with us from here on out- you will not burn in your sleep! Isn't that exciting and homey?

For those of you who have slept at the Schoeny Chateau (all eight of you since mid-June)- nice work on that narrow escape.

Turns out, even though I really wanted to work on something we could SEE as opposed to boring ol' electrical work, it desperately needed rewiring. And sure, there was a crazy breaker box deeply embedded in Nora's crawlspace insulation...but dude. A deck.

So we had our electricians come two months ago. This laid the groundwork for them to show up roughly once a week and tell us work would begin soon. Once they had the permits. And parts. (We had so many delays due to "parts" that I almost began forging my own in the basement made entirely of broken picture frames and toys Nora has yet to grow into. Yes, I have enough of both.)

And I think, in my next life, that I shall endeavor to be an electrician. Based on what I've seen, the hours are incredible. 11am to 3pm...with a two hour lunch break. One day they texted and told me it was too hot to work. (But uh...is it cool if I plug in this fan? You know, into the outlet you said would burn the house down?)

There would be huge chunks of the day without power. Sometimes they'd be nice enough to run an extension cord from Nora's bedroom window out to a generator so she could take a nap with some semblance of circulating air. Unfortunately, that would be when they'd choose to drill into the brick directly on the other side of her crib. (It's not like they didn't have three full floors into which they could drill at that time, all with timely and explodey wiring.) This also severely cramped my Eating Directly Out Of The Fridge habit, what with needing to conserve the coolness of the darkened fridge and all. I still did it, but my style was cramped.

And there were days that they warned me there would be "extensive" power outages- starting at 9am- and I should make "alternate plans" with Nora. So I would. I'd put the cats on the lower level with food and extra water, I'd pack up Nora and prepare to let the electricians into the house and then take off. Which would inevitably happen around 1pm, leaving me sitting on our stairs like a kid who missed the camp bus.

And there was the day- during "sporadic outages"- that I loaded Nora into the car to return a thing of yogurt to the grocery store (long story), to discover that there was no power in the garage. For no good reason. And since the electricians were on an indeterminate lunch break- and since Peej had loudly forbidden me to lift the garage door manually (sheesh)- I unloaded N (and the yogurt) to cloister ourselves in her closed-off room (to conserve previously conditioned air) where we awaited their return by peering out the window...without lifting the shades too high. It was hot.

I fully believe we can file this whole escapade into the category of First World Problems...but still. Our home is safe. Unless ComEd and their inspection team and their indeterminate 5-10 hour window within 5-10 business days says otherwise. Seriously, Nora. Trade schools. Look into them.

And then return home to care for your parents' abode. For we shall never be able to afford to leave.

Not with the sweet deck and patio I'm planning.

Why Do I Have The Saddest, Most Lost-Looking Kid This Week?