Ed, in a huff, said he was going to hire someone to “put stuff up in the crawl space” which is something I do because I am flexible. The stuff he means is boxes of financial filing, still not logically categorized, sitting in boxes and on chairs and a table in our den. Yes, indeed, it is a mess. So I said “the putting up in the space is not the problem, the organizing it to go up in the space is the problem.” And, if one ever needs to refer to it, is has to be prominently labeled in BIG LETTERS ON ALL SIDES OF THE BOX or you might just as well have tossed it. So I made myself start this project that I have been avoiding, because, after all, it does need to be done and I don’t see Ed ever doing it or even knowing how. He is so good at stuff when he focuses, but some stuff just slides away from him, like organizing paperwork of any kind. For a guy with an MBA, you'd think ...

I have been sitting on the floor in the den sorting and putting stuff aside to discard – except of course, I have to shred a lot and before doing that, have to remove staples and clips.

And I had some heartbreaking moments because I needed to make room in a file cabinet and made myself throw out the medical records for my best cat, Sniff, who died a few years ago of cancer in his intestines. It’s a good thing Ed was out. And old calendars is another thing that can get one going ... one from 2004 refers to New York trips when I was going there to have piano lessons with Sophie. And there were notes of ballet classes I took while there. All in all, my former life. Gone.

Ed’s desk is chaos and I allowed myself to organize some of it but there is a lot only he can decide about. His duties these past years as an ombudsman generated a lot of paper. Maybe some of it will be useful in his new enterprise of being a guardian for the elderly. He has to decide. Did I mention he passed the state exam and the national exam? Now he has to post a bond and get fingerprinted.

Also, the ombuds office, in order to justify its budget, had to find ways to spend money so that the funds allotted would not be reduced. So they handed out logo T shirts and brief cases and leather card wallets. I told Ed once that if he brought home another brief case (we have about 10, not counting the ones we bought for ourselves) that I would personally strangle the administrator. Also, only an idiot would wear a T shirt that has an ombudsman logo on it, like some kind of bowling alley worker. They would also generate encyclopedia-like manuals every several months and he will still keep these as they deal with elder issues and being a guardian for the elderly, they are still informative. But they are going in a cabinet in the garage.

Then one of Ed’s needies called (he has several – he counsels them on the phone – they are all female – what, me worry? ) I chatted with her but she could tell I was busy so she rang off.

When I do work like this, the day goes and there is no time to do other stuff like walk or bike. Maybe I will lean on Ed to buy dinner out. Take-out, probably since he hates going to restaurants unless we are going with “people”.

Meanwhile, as I leave the den to get something I need and pass the kitchen, I notice stuff to do and do it and this is true of every room and so the day goes. And I haven’t even practiced and the piano is really calling – it’s a gut wrenching cry. At some point, I’ll have to stop everything and go there.

xx, Teal