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I thought it was already Monday when I woke in a bit of a panic. Until I checked which day it was on the computer. By then I was wide awake of course.
An early walk avoided traffic. Two vehicles in 40 minutes. The birds were everywhere. A cold wind again in bright sunshine.
I seem to be coping remarkably well with my wife's recent death. Answering emails and blogging helps. This way I am able to deal with my wife's unexpected departure. At what you might call "a safe distance." Whereas, when I have to talk face to face with somebody it seems to trigger my tears.
I am also talking to my absent wife in jest. Such a one-sided conversation allow me to disentangle myself. From over half a century of ingrained inhibitions. I can say things which are "cheeky" and often rather childish. Say things which would have raised her ire even in jest. Leading to an argument. Wanting a quiet life is a great inhibitor.
The continuous tidying indoors and out is a valuable consumer of my time and concentration. My wife was very protective of her belongings and garden. With good cause. She would claim that if I brought out the chainsaw it would be a massacre. Probably on the scale of Amazon Rain Forest clearance.
My inability to widen the drive. Because of the shared boundary hedge. Was a case in point. It was my first task after seeing the ambulance struggle past just to reach the house. Then to extricate itself again with my wife inside.
Nobody has lived in the property next door for years. It is just padding in an investment portfolio. Paper numbers. The cost of re-roofing and bringing the thatched property up to modern standards would be crippling. It can't be rented out without great expense. The close proximity of a neighbouring property and its toxic owners, denies it any chance of a desirable, rural property label. Easily on the scale of having a pig farm right in the back yard.
There is no longer any need for privacy and security from next door's, racist drunks. They have gone on to breed freely elsewhere. My trimming back the hedge, by a couple of feet, absolutely transformed access beyond belief. It was also extremely therapeutic. Both from a practical viewpoint and because I could defy my wife at last.
Our "relationship" is similarly being transformed. To match the completely new circumstances. I have gained my freedom but at terrifying cost. I would still, willingly go back to our former life. If it were possible with my present knowledge. She was not remotely an ogre. I do hope I haven't painted that picture of her. She was kind and generous and clever and supportive. She always had something interesting to say and I miss her dreadfully.
I wish, desperately, that I could discuss her hoarding face to face. To gently help her to ease the burden she had taken on. A burden of space denied to us both in its completely unnecessary volume. Not least how I could have given her enough free space to actually enjoy and display her accumulated treasures. Alas, it is much too late for such gestures. Neither of us saw this coming.
Adapt and survive. Or sink into the impenetrable fog of antidepressants and moaning about "my lot." I have so many options now. That I must take each day at a time. To expand my boundaries to match my completely new life. I have skills aplenty to improve what I now have to myself. It will take time to adjust.
The reality is that I am trying to do too much in too many areas. I still haven't cleared the TV stage upstairs. In readiness for storing her stuff more efficiently and far less visibly. Every room has boxed stuff on the floor. I flit from one job to the next without any plan, rhyme or reason. Attacking jobs which merely appeal in the moment.
I have removed the [mouldy] corner cupboard in the kitchen. Which had a significant role in supporting pans and other cooking items. There is no candidate amongst the remaining furniture to replace it. Not even temporarily. Last night's washing up remains untouched. I have not developed any form of routine yet. The only obvious progress is removal of vast quantities of unwanted materials, furniture and things. Things which no longer have any useful purpose for her storage needs.
It has only been a week, I suppose. So I should probably ease up on myself. Having to move stuff off the cooker, just to make coffee, is becoming a bore. I'm afraid I am abusing the word "stuff" because it covers a multitude of things. Both useful and/or [more usually] decorative.
Prioritise! Forget about the garden. Clear the stage first! Even if it means moving the TV first. Even if it means dumping the boxes of vinyl LPs for recycling. Only then can I start moving loosely filled boxes of her glass ornaments off the floor downstairs.
"Hello! My name is Chris and I am a hoarder."
Two hours of sweating profusely over ridiculously heavy boxes and I have cleared the entire TV stage. 2.4x1.8m floor area under a 45° ceiling. Only a 15cm/ 6" dwarf wall at the back.
I have dragged the vast majority of it down the ridiculously steep stairs to stack it on the lounge floor. LPs, old magazines from as far back as the 1940s. Leaflets going back for many years for several hobbies.
All stuff I haven't looked at in perhaps 20 years. What does it owe me? Nothing. It is all going to the recycling yard. English language magazines have no interest over here. Posting any of these to the UK would be obscenely expensive.
Another era ends. We bought a huge, vintage, cafe, pendant, globe light decades ago. It has been hanging in front of a series of ever larger TVs for all of that time. My wife would not let me take it down. Until now. Gone at last! 😁 Not sure what I want in its place. It is the landing flood light when needed, but rarely lit in the past. LEDs are now so compact that a light could be flush mounted.
I have decided to hang the TV from the ceiling. I'm trying to get away from the present TV foot resting on a welded steel table. It attracts dust but is inaccessible for dusting because of the open stairwell in front. The table is now pointless with no centre loudspeaker to support. All the cables, which have trailed across the floor for years, will soon become invisible.
My wife's boxed glassware from the lounge has now been carried up to the TV stage, storage area. The lounge floor is now covered in my own unwanted hoard! The trailer has been moved nearer to the back door ready for loading.
The plant growing shelves in the front hall, adjoining the greenhouse, have been taken down. I may be able to use my wife's LED grow light strips for something else. They are very compact. So could light the storage area when needed. Without taking up any room at all. This is vitally important with sloping ceilings. Anything sticking out, or down, is magnet for my head!
18.00 Taking a break for a cup of tea. I finally did it! I have dumped all my old magazines, leaflets and personal papers into the trailer. Ready for the trip to the recycling yard paper container. My old notebooks going back to the 70s. Packed with ideas, drawings and calculations for endless projects. No money back then. Few actual projects. I was desperately trying to invent myself into a more comfortable financial situation.
There were boxes of magazines about Clocks, astronomy, cycling, model engineering, computers, audio, model making, building work, solar, insulation & alternative energy. Dozens of Ordnance Survey maps. The weight of some of the boxes was prodigious! The boxes of LPs were the worst. I had to be very careful about lifting them. People pay serious money for this much exercise! Are you supposed to be doing this much at 75?
The kitchen still contains stacked boxes of her stuff. Mostly ornaments, vases and bottles. Either I find a way of stacking them safely upstairs. Or I have to build shelving to increase the storage height. The storage floor area is already covered in a single layer of boxes. That won't fill the available volume. efficiently. Most of these early boxes won't tolerate stacking. So I'll just have to stack the kitchen boxes. Which can be three boxes high.
Joist loading on rickety and amateur building work, from the 70s, suggests I spread the loads more evenly. Perhaps on a large, plywood sheet baseboard. That, or I do the stacking nearest the corner over a load bearing wall.
I'm pretty sure my few visitors are sick of hearing about my weight lifting therapy by now. Time for a shower. Whether I need one or not. 😇
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