I worked on the messy bedroom for a few minutes on Friday night and was able to sort and store four bins of clothes I probably should get rid of, but am not ready to part with just yet. That didn’t make much of a dent in the pile.
Sunday I spent several hours in there, made a big mess in the hall, and it still doesn’t look much different. I filled a trash bag, found several empty boxes to recycle, packed up two boxes and two bags to donate, added a bit to the laundry, uncovered an empty laundry basked that had been swallowed by the mess, found a couple of trinkets and other things I can find homes for, and a shoebox of coal.
Yup. Coal. How did it get there? I have no idea. Why did I have a shoebox of coal? Your guess is as good as any. But there it was. A box of coal. At least now I think I’ve identified the strange odor we would smell from time to time, mostly in the summer. Time will tell.
Here’s the thing I’m most afraid of:
The dreaded dresser surface, full of lotions, potion, trinkets and baubbles.
