The De-Cluttering Begins

Today is one that will be spent moving slowly, with the primary form of exercise being that of clicking the remote, opening an aspirin bottle and washing the contents down periodically.

It’s not my norm for weekend days, because there’s always so much to do and so little time to do it. Some weekends, though, you put all the work up front and all the rest on the back end. This is the case now.

We’ve started our “Clean out the House” effort in earnest. On the trip back to Oklahoma, the fam was put on notice that they should speak to claim those items of furniture that have familial sentimental interest which they would like to possess, either now or in the future. Some are young adults looking toward their first apartments; others are mature adults moving to different homes and have space or inclination for these things. Some just can’t let them go.

In our effort to clean out the clutter, though, we decided that the place to start was at the top. Specifically, in the attic.

Before those of you in the flatlands begin to picture that cramped space above the ceiling and below that minimally sloped roof that all ranch houses built in the 1960’s came with, let me explain how this house is different.

Our attic has a flight of stairs to it. It’s winding and narrow, and the architect who designed them deserves to spend extra time in purgatory having to live in a house with just such a stairway. But it’s better than a pull-down ladder.

Once you’re up there, it’s an entire floor of the house. It’s larger than most houses that I’ve lived in, with about 1,000 square feet of floor space and ceiling height that allows you to stand upright.

Unfortunately, it’s floor space that had not been cleaned in years, if not decades. There were still things up there that belonged to the Millers, who built the house in 1930 and lived here until their deaths in the 1980’s.

Plus what we contributed to the mix. After all, if the basement is somewhat damp, what do you with those bulky things you have to store somewhere but really don’t need in the house with you? You put them in the attic.

Oh, and let’s not forget enough Christmas Decorations to do Macy’s windows on a good year.

So yesterday, while half the people in the house were away travelling on business, the other half (i.e. me) decided that my surprise present would be to attack the project. This isn’t altogether altruistic, mind you – our work styles are different and disagreements are fewer sometimes if we’re not working side-by-side.

The kids who thought they were coming to work in the yard at first thought this would be easier. By lunchtime, they were really wanting to go back out to mow and weed, mostly because it was cooler out in the sun than it was in the attic, even with the windows open and the fans running.

Having adopted a mindset that we’re not going to end up on television as the subject of an intervention program for hoarders, most of the decisions about what to keep and what to eliminate were fairly easy. We’d skimmed through documents, letters and papers and sent them off to the shredder earlier. Suitcases that are no longer suitable for travel become convenient storage boxes for some of the Christmas decorations that don’t fit in bins. Furniture was either stacked to be photographed and put on e-Bay or was taken directly to the truck to go to the Habitat Store.

After all, you never know who’s going to need 10 ft. long window valances from 1972 covered in Carolina Blue silk with those little hangy balls decorating the edges.

We shouldn’t through them away, since someone might get some use out of them. But not us.

There is a fairly substantial stack of things that are permanently consigned to the attic. They are things that have been removed or changed in the house that were a part of the original fixtures.

In some cases, they’re the actual fixtures. The original tile from the kitchen was removed (not by us) and stored in boxes. Along with the towel racks, faucets, hinges, light fixtures and an assortment of other doo-dads that we feel compelled to keep because, after all, we’re just the caretakers of this historic home for a while.

A “while” that will end in a new, single level condominium with no yard and maintenance people to take care of things. That’s another story, though, and a dream for the future.

Its amazing what you can accomplish in a fairly short period of time when you have a willing workforce who is absolutely clueless as to what you’re trying to accomplish, but recognize that whether in the attic or in the yard, it all pays the same.  They're also motivated by the fact that we're not leaving until I finish the project, and the sooner it's done the sooner we're out of that bake oven on top of the house.

I did get some surprised looks, though, like when I sent one down to bring up the vacuum cleaner. Given the choice between sweeping up a storm that would have looked like those postcards of northwest Oklahoma in the 1930’s and subduing the dustbunnies and filth mechanically, I opted for the latter. My lungs don’t need another coating of abuse.

At 3:00, when we couldn’t tolerate any more, I’d accomplished the target for the day. That, and I simply couldn’t stand / bend / walk any more. Even my teenage assistants were showing signs of fatigue and an executive decision was thus made to call it a day and close up the shop.

While I still wouldn’t walk barefoot across the floor, it doesn’t leave footprints when you come down the stairs into the house. With few exceptions, all the stuff that was leaving is gone and the other stuff is organized and can be dealt with during the next couple of weeks.

Except for the Christmas decorations, which have a room all to themselves up there and will take decisions that lie above my pay grade.

The scary part is that the attic was merely a prelude to the basement, which comes next.