My first two mini-goals in Dream Team were to write at least 5 pages, (I have,) in the genre I want to use in the book, (some of it, anyway — it’s a little more memoir than self-help right now,) and organize my work space. Well, my friend D. came over this morning, and I had my table intervention.
Now, this table had a two-foot solid pile of junk on it — old paycheck stubs, magazines, strange metal things that used to be toys, or mobiles, or Allen wrenches, plastic pieces of a perpetual motion rig I got for my desk, but never did any more with than take it out of the box. Also present were parts for pump setup changes, batteries, and stacks and stacks and stacks of old papers, from partial psychiatric hospitalization, (twice, in 2007 and 2008, ) from my previous dream team, and medical bills from my bypass surgery in 1998. What a mess.
When D. arrived, I started to pick away at the table, and she stopped me. Instead, she helped me completely clear the table, and pile everything in a chair. That way, she said, I could just put things on the table that I want on the table. I was aghast at this speedy approach, but I went along with her idea, and soon I understood why. Simply seeing the table clear and clean was enough to lift my mood and strengthen my resolve to pitch as much of this stuff as I could get rid of.
I started through the big pile, while D. cleaned and fixed my Snail Mail organizer, which I had never used really correctly before. I began to pitch stuff, but I quickly lost my wind, until D. turned around and held the trash bag — she would smile and ask if I really needed that whatever-it-was, and I almost always grinned and said no, and dropped it in the bag. As the pile got smaller, the shredder pile got much larger — exponentially larger, in fact. I still have to get to that stuff, although I had started this AM before D. got here.
When I had gotten to the bottom of that pile, she very gently guided me back to the table and asked, “Now, what do you want to keep on the table?” As it turned out, almost nothing. And now it is neat, clean, organized and usable to me as a desk for bills, stacking printed pages of the book, and a spot for changing pump setups. We then organized, and compacted into two boxes, all of my pump supplies — one box for every three days, and the other for extra batteries, lancets, etc. And that area was done.
Next we turned our attention to the desk, but not before we had a moment of silence for my thirty-year-old black flats, which had been like a security blanket all that time. I wore them everywhere, from preaching, to dating and dancing, to work, to barbecues and parties. They have seen much better days; the leather is cracked, and the heel leather is worn completely away. Still, it broke my heart a little to give them up. In fact, the thought just crossed my mind to dig them back out and store them somewhere, but the trash has gone into the dumpster, and I’m not THAT attached to them. So. bye-bye, shoes.
This is getting very long. Suffice it to say that we unplugged all of my computer stuff, moved the desk, put the printer closer, marked all the cords, and put the setup back together. So here I sit — clean desk, clean table, filthy clothes and hair, (a shower is coming up soon,) and a plan with D. to spend a couple of hours next week on my two primary bookcases in the living room. My only other job is to rewire an old lamp, with has needed repairing for years.
I am awash in a huge feeling of energy, and pride in what we did, and a solemn policy to return the flat surfaces to this state every Saturday. My life changes all the time, now, and often with the help of my amazing friend, D. Thank you, D.