Cleaning

One of the things that we said we wanted to do as part of cleaning up the room that our guests are going to stay in was: get the boxes out of there. There being the cubbyhole under the stairs, said hole being accessible through a troll door in the corner of the room.

I just cleaned out half of it, piling it into the middle of the room until there was no more space in the middle, and damned little around the edges. I discovered that a) my mother kept the boxes for anything electronic (one of the boxes is the one my speakers came in when I had them delivered home from Vietnam in 1974), and b) one of the two massively heavy steamer trunks (actual, could have been on the Titanic trunks) contains everything from a copy of my vaccination record when I was four months old to a coat she wore fifty years ago (with the pin still on it) to a set of stoneware serving plates to an electric carving knife that I remember my father wielding (I was always amazed and more than a little frightened by the flashing blades).

And there's still more to go.