I know, I know. I talking about purging (the junking kind) all the time, but this time it's for real—and not what you think.
1. We have to purge at the accursed day job. Yes, at WORK. My company just renegotiated our lease, and is gutting the interior of our offices (220+ people work for my company) to completely remodel. We are moving to temporary cubicles on another floor from August through December.
We are each allowed only 3 BOXES each. You heard me. Talk about striking terror down to a packrat's core.
As background, let me remind you that I've been at this job for 31 YEARS. I've only been junking for approximately 9 years. You do the math. Want a visual?
There's just ONE view of my work area. (No comments from the peanut gallery, please, about how messy it is. Or about that ratty chair I've been begging them to replace. Or about my "menopause fan" above my computer.)
What you're not seeing are 6 giant 3-foot wide file cabinets and a whole production area. Oh, I forgot to mention that 5 years ago they RIF'd the entire art department down to just me. I do 3 people's jobs. I have a lot of junk. 31 years worth of junk.
The good news? My boss, who's been here 32 years, is a bigger packrat than I am. She's trying to get the 2 of us "special dispensation" for extra-box allowances.
2. We're going to have to purge my parents' home. My parents will be moving up to Northern Virginia to an independent-living community—downsizing from a 3-bedroom home to a 1-bedroom apartment.
Not surprisingly, Dad is stoked, if not downright over-eager. Apparently, every time Mom takes a nap he makes a run to Goodwill or the dump. But, Grasshopper and I will be going down to help in any way we can. Possibly to ensure that Dad doesn't leave her with just clean underwear and a toothbrush as her sole possessions.
3. You know. The usual struggle to purge the hoard at home. It's gonna be a long summer.