Jeff and I have been playing this great game that I think everyone should try.
Its called Musical Storage Units.
First you have to start with a WHOLE lot of stuff. Preferably stuff you don't know what to do with and throw in a heaping helping of parent's treasures that you have inherited, followed by generous amounts of your adult children's belongings that they do not have room for and finally a bunch of large pieces of furniture that cost too much to just give away.
Now place all items in several very large expensive storage units in an extremely haphazard fashion with no particular order or organization what-so-ever.
Leave units alone for 8-12 months.
Decide that its costing too much, so rent another one or two smaller units and rearrange everything into those and make a stab at getting rid of some things that by now you've decided you can part with.
Leave units alone for 6-8 months.
Once again decide units are costing too much so again rent smaller units and declare loudly to anyone who will listen that THIS time you are making a clean break. Everything must go. At this point you find some paperwork boxes that are dated 10 years ago, you can grind those, you decide that some of the furniture that originally cost you too much to give away is really taking up space and you will never use it again anyway, give these away to anyone who will take it, then go through old memory boxes, get overwhelmed with decisions and shove everything back into the smaller units and decide you have done enough for this time.
Leave units alone for 4-6 months.
Finally realize you are pouring money and mental energy into storing crap. Arrive at storage units and tag everything bigger than a medium box for a garage sale, give away or actually find a place for it. Realize that the parents treasures were THEIR treasures and not yours and make hard decisions about what to keep and what can be tossed. Give adult children an ultimatum that if they want their stuff they have to come take it or it will be donated to someone who wants it (the Goodwill) . Bring home all boxes of personal items and either find a place for them or include them in the pending garage sale.
Tell the folks at the storage units that its been nice while it lasted but its time for your relationship to come to end, hand over the keys and say good bye.
Wasn't that fun?
But be warned, this game can take several years or more to complete so before you start playing, make sure you have that much of your life to spare until you can win.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Friday, February 27, 2009
The Game of Life
So I haven't died, been maimed in a freak accident, gotten on my way home, or hogtied by my children and left in the closet.
I've been playing tennis with life and it keeps me busy with killer serves and not to believed backhanded returns. On life's part, not mine.
About a month ago I was served a washing machine with attitude. It not only was giving me little number/letter combination error messages on its control panel but it would lie to me and say there was a minute left in it's cycle and an hour later it was still rolling the clothes around its innards.
The clothes were coming out soaking wet and often not smelling like spring fresh rain as my detergent promised.
We are in a financial bind right now (complete other story) so I wasn't looking forward to calling the washing machine repairman so he could charge me $100 for something I was sure was an easy fix. I poured over the instruction manual but could find no answers.
So the other night, after spending 2 hours fighting with it, begging it to spin the clothes dry, pleading with it to tell me the truth about how much longer it would be and when it finally shut itself off and presented me with dripping wet stinky clothes, I remembered the immortal words of Jeff and scurried off to find out if Google was indeed still my friend.
I ran a 30 second search on troubleshooting and immediately came up with an answer.
The drain filter was clogged. One screwdriver and a giant hairball with a life of its own later and my machine was running like new.
And it didn't cost me a cent. Score one for me!
Of course this could have been fixed a month ago if the dang manual mentioned there was a user friendly panel hiding the drain filter that anyone with a double digit IQ could figure out. But then the washing machine repairmen couldn't look like heroes to countless washing machine owners across America.
Personally I prefer that my heroes don't charge me for their services.
That hasn't been the only tough volley I have had to deal with over the past month, but I think one problem per blog entry is enough.
See now why can't life take an example from me... and only fling me one ball at a time. I could put all my attention on it, figure out what needed to be done, create a plan of action and get it handled in a timely manner. A slow, perfect return.
Not turn the ball machine on high and let 'er rip, laughing as I dodge and weave, swinging wildly until I retreat defeated out the back gate as the balls ricochet off my rear end.
Not a pretty sight I can assure you.
I've been playing tennis with life and it keeps me busy with killer serves and not to believed backhanded returns. On life's part, not mine.
About a month ago I was served a washing machine with attitude. It not only was giving me little number/letter combination error messages on its control panel but it would lie to me and say there was a minute left in it's cycle and an hour later it was still rolling the clothes around its innards.
The clothes were coming out soaking wet and often not smelling like spring fresh rain as my detergent promised.
We are in a financial bind right now (complete other story) so I wasn't looking forward to calling the washing machine repairman so he could charge me $100 for something I was sure was an easy fix. I poured over the instruction manual but could find no answers.
So the other night, after spending 2 hours fighting with it, begging it to spin the clothes dry, pleading with it to tell me the truth about how much longer it would be and when it finally shut itself off and presented me with dripping wet stinky clothes, I remembered the immortal words of Jeff and scurried off to find out if Google was indeed still my friend.
I ran a 30 second search on troubleshooting and immediately came up with an answer.
The drain filter was clogged. One screwdriver and a giant hairball with a life of its own later and my machine was running like new.
And it didn't cost me a cent. Score one for me!
Of course this could have been fixed a month ago if the dang manual mentioned there was a user friendly panel hiding the drain filter that anyone with a double digit IQ could figure out. But then the washing machine repairmen couldn't look like heroes to countless washing machine owners across America.
Personally I prefer that my heroes don't charge me for their services.
That hasn't been the only tough volley I have had to deal with over the past month, but I think one problem per blog entry is enough.
See now why can't life take an example from me... and only fling me one ball at a time. I could put all my attention on it, figure out what needed to be done, create a plan of action and get it handled in a timely manner. A slow, perfect return.
Not turn the ball machine on high and let 'er rip, laughing as I dodge and weave, swinging wildly until I retreat defeated out the back gate as the balls ricochet off my rear end.
Not a pretty sight I can assure you.
Monday, February 2, 2009
1967
I created another blog of pictures that were taken of me 40+ years ago. These are few of my favorite pictures from there.
Click on the link under Other Blogs to see the rest.
Click on the link under Other Blogs to see the rest.
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