recycled « Robin Writes

Well. Ahem. There was, um, a LOT OF STUFF left at the new place. The listing agent had said that the seller “just moved out” the first of February. Maybe we forgot to ask which year?

Picture this (and you can see for yourself, although the pics for this week’s episode were taken shortly after we started; so just imagine even MORE STUFF):

A 900 square foot house, two rooms. We’re not counting the half-assed lean-to attached to the back that served as a utility room. That sucker is coming down, as soon as we can manage. There are three decks; the one to the left we’ll call the “kitchen deck,” because the door leading inside is right next to the pantry. The front deck is, of course, on the front, with a door leading inside to the open living area, and the side deck is off the bedroom/bath—but it’s connected to the front deck. All are covered, mostly, and the kitchen deck has a ramp instead of stairs.

All three decks were covered with plastic planters, as well as few clay ones, and large plastic buckets. Also plastic gallon ice cream containers. Also No. 10 cans, empty. Well, empty of their original contents. Most were now filled with rocks. Not good rocks. Not interesting rocks. Just rocks. Some planters had rocks, most had dirt. One had empty root beer cans and dirt. Hmmm.

Also discovered on the decks were an aquarium, a restaurant corner book AND table, boxes, rags, trash, plastic chairs, dog dishes (plural, several times over), and a few other assorted odd things. Crap, that is.

I’m happy to report that, while the booth and table are still there—we’re actually just wondering if it’s an illusion—the rest has made its happy way to the barn or the dumpster or the junk pile.

We have a BIG junk pile . . .

Now, let’s step inside. It’s okay. You can come in. We have latex gloves and dust masks and lots of bleach. Lots.

In the living area, there are two falling-apart recliners, an electric organ, an entertainment center. Also a VHS player, complete with tapes, a ton of Jehovah’s Witness material, cassettes, a CRT monitor, a practically new printer, keyboard, mouse. Also evidence of other mice. Quite a bit, but also a lot of mouse poison. And traps. Empty, thankfully. Oh, and ton of wadded-up newspaper, and dust, and trash. A lot of trash.

Good thing we bought a huge box of contractor trash bags.

The cabinets were full of junk, old dishes, home-canned items, spices, and cake mixes. Yes, you read that right. Also a lot of dog meds, wormers, etc. And some people meds. Nothing in the fridge, which surprisingly did NOT smell, but the freezer . . . Blech.

Slip through the bathroom doorway—no actual door, yet—and you’ll see the same kind of crap. Meds, personal care items, a shelving unit in the shower, the toilet in a couple pieces—not trashed, just apart—and bubble bath, dog food, dead plants, perfume, makeup, and more trash.

Walking through the bedroom/bath area, you’ll find more of the same. And a couch. Ick. And a mattress on top of a homemade platform bed. And more crap on top of that. Shoes in the closet. And hangers. Lots of hangers.

Practically indescribable.

And now? Cleaning, Round One, complete.

I say “round one,” because no way anything is going in that house until I have at least one more cleaning spree in there. No way.

We arrived Friday, early afternoon. We finished the house Sunday, late afternoon.

Now, just to be clear, we did a few other things:

Saturday morning, 8:30, 30 degrees, we hiked half the property and narrowed down the possible campsites to two locations.

We got the well turned on and working—sadly, the connection on top of the hot water tank was loose, so that icky lean-to got a quick shower. On the plus side, it sure didn’t hurt anything . . .

We also had a gate and some lumber delivered, and then returned said gate for a bigger one. And we sampled every fast-food restaurant in town.

There aren’t many.

And we got in some target practice.

No, not at the neighbor’s chickens. Oh, he has guineas too. Ick. BIG ick. And a rooster that crows ALL THE TIME.

And we made a lot of plans. A lot. And a lot of lists.

But in the end, we can’t wait to go back!

On any given day, I’m busy. I run a business. I write. I’m undertaking a huge project down on our new farm, with the accompanying moving stress. I deal with the household stuff, and I have a kid still at home—a high school junior. And a husband. And three cats and two dogs. I sit on two boards, and buh-lieve me, that can be oh-so-much-fun (said in my best sarcastic tone.)

No, I don’t work 36 hours a day.

I don’t even work 16 hours a day, most days anyway.

Call it juggling, call it efficiency, call it whatever—but it works for me.

See, I know how to work, but I also know how to stop. And take a nap. Or read a book. Or do something for me.

I saw a conversation on Facebook earlier this week that talked about career versus family—the age-old debate. You know the one. I happen to fall on the side of yes, you can have it all. With limits.

After all, as adults, we always have limits—it’s not like when we were kids and thought being a grown-up was way cool, ‘cause we could do whatever we wanted to then. Nope. Limits.

Even when my kids were young, I had a lot of free time. Besides the efficiency factor, I also believe that the parents, i.e. your spouse, are the priority. Not the kids. Sure, you care for them and love them, and you spend time with them, and you provide opportunities, but that doesn’t mean you put your own life on hold.

I knew parents, back then, who spent every single evening and weekend shuttling kids around to lessons and practices; parents who scraped by, normally, but found money and time for elaborate vacations. Parents who sat down to “help” their kids with homework all the way into high school. Hey, that’s fine if you want to do that—I didn’t.

I didn’t see my “job” of raising kids to mean that that’s all I did, every day, every week. No, I’m not selfish, I never ignored my kids’ needs. I listened to them, I guided them, I gave them rules to follow, I played with them—none of that “quality time” stuff, though. I remember once when my daughter’s school tried to coerce the “quality time” BS by sending home “family fun packs” or some such nonsense. Like, as a single mom then, I had the time or energy to do those boring projects; we had enough fun and family time on our own schedules, things we actually enjoyed.

My kids tried different lessons and activities, but never more than one or two at a time; they were active in church—and that was a family thing—and around the house, another family thing. We took a couple vacations, on the cheap ‘cause we were always broke, and they had chores to do. And while we were available for homework help, we sure didn’t do it with them. Shoot, I’d already graduated and done the work—and back in the 70s, no sane parent did homework with the kids, for the same reason.

My goal was to raise adults, as they say, and the more self-sufficient my kids became, the happier they were. And me too. Did I put things for myself on the back burner? You bet. I waited to go back to college; I decided against law school. I sold my horses; I lived near good schools, even if I had to pay for the kids to go there.

And all this to say that yes, you can “have it all,” with limits. The ones who think you can’t “have it all” seem to be those who have jobs that practically require 70+ hours per week, and/or those who prefer working to doing almost anything else. Conversely, the mommies who think that being a mom requires 24/7 self-sacrifice are also those who think you can’t “have it all.”

It’s just like anything else—you have to have balance. Sure, you may have to change your plans for yourself or your job if one of your kids needs something, but again, balance; that’s not all or nothing, that’s a change of plans for the one day.

Now that my last one is ready to leave the nest, and yes, he’s ready—one more year of high school, and the kid can cook, clean, do laundry, shop on the cheap, and take care of all kinds of things around the house. And that means more time for other things, for me.

Hence, the laundry list of hats I wear.

See, you can get a lot done with a certain amount of organization. Do I always succeed? Nope. There are times when I’m running in circles or my brain won’t shut down, it just keeps throwing new ideas and plans and to-dos at me. That’s when I stop. I read. I take a nap. I make a list, or three.

And then I’m back on track.

I’ve tried, now and then, to make a schedule. For instance, I’ll write on this day or work on festival things on that day. Doesn’t really work for me. It might work for you. More than likely, I’ll make a master list for the week, anything with a deadline gets noted, and I categorize items by project or, well, category.

Oh, sure, you still have to juggle. If I’m working on one area and suddenly get an idea or remind myself of something else to do, I either have to take a mental note or write it down. I don’t ignore it, but I keep on task, I keep pushing to finish the job.

Of course, sometimes that backfires. If it’s a big project, I tend to procrastinate on starting because I want to start AND FINISH all at once. That’s where another list comes in handy: a running list of steps to complete a big project, because sometimes I just don’t want to do. Breaking it down makes it a little easier to tolerate.

Finally, in case you’re wondering, no, I didn’t prioritize that list in the first paragraph. Just typed as they came to me, and that’s not to say one is more important than another, just what was on my mind at the moment. See, no guilt—you can do that too.