I'm drowning in junk, buried in boxes, suffocating with stuff. It doesn't surprise me that all these metaphors point to an untimely end.
There would be irony in getting snuffed out by my stuff, since one of my biggest worries happens to be that I'll drop dead and my children will have the burden of sorting through everything.
I know what I'm talking about, because even though my 92-year-old mom had downsized several times and had already given some of her things to her children and grandchildren, my sister and I recently had to dismantle her apartment. I spent $300 to mail my share of her tchotchkes from Florida to D.C., where I live.
Of course, the surviving children could hire someone to hold a tag sale or find a charity to just haul everything away. But how could you resist going through everything, hunting for treasures that reveal, in some cases, more than you want to know about your parents.
After our father died, my sister and I sat on the floor pulling things out of his night table drawer. Crossword puzzles, two pairs of glasses, an old watch and... What's this long thing wrapped in a paper towel?
We looked at each other with clenched teeth, fearing the most ghastly kind of sex toy as I gingerly unwound the paper towel.
Until... what revealed itself was... a toothbrush!
Whew! But that got me thinking what might reveal itself in my night table drawer if I were suddenly, say, to get decapitated by a ceiling fan.
My night table drawer is where I always stored my valentines. Out of sheer laziness, I have never moved them to my "letters received" file, though it is nice to glimpse a red envelope occasionally when I reach for a PostIt and remember that men used to send me valentines.
It occurs to me my kids might think I still hold a torch for the previous Mr. Wrong. Yo kids, uh-uh, he's just a friend.
Condoms? My kids are cool enough to be cool with that, except no one wants to picture their parents having sex. In this case my girls can actually imagine me not having sex, since the condoms expired in 2009.
Presently I'm taking my Ogranizing Challenge to see if following the dozens of organizing tips I've written about will help me dig my way out of my metaphorical grave.
Follow Susan Orlins on Twitter: www.twitter.com/susanorlins
Loading comments… 
