Saddled with the job

Google is so funny. Whenever I log into this blog, it sends me alerts to tell me that I'm signing into my account from a new device. As if to warn me I might be having an out-of-body experience. I'm sure it makes sense to Google. My confusion is near-constant when it comes to the Internet. I've had to abandon several Gmail accounts because I couldn't remember the password, and even though there are other ways to verify my identity, Google has decided it just can't take a chance. After I give up, it sends me an email to my "verification" email stating that it just protected me from an unauthorized log in. As if it expects a pat on the head. For protecting me from myself. Hmmm. Maybe that makes sense after all.

Everything is back to normal at the Love Shack, that is to say, all effed up in the usual way, moving along according to the moving plan. The kitchen table and chairs departed this week with a grateful Freecycler. I still don't know how she managed to fit all three pieces into her little SUV. Maybe those things are roomier than they appear. I have one more shelf to donate to the local reclaim store. After that, there's just the bed. The question I'm now facing: at what point does one let go of one's bed? I still haven't shaken off the residual trauma left from two days of no heat. The thought of discarding my bed is fraught.

Nevertheless, I'm starting to get a sense of the rhythm of letting go. I thought at first the best strategy would be to hang onto the small stuff to the end. However, I've discovered all the small stuff takes a long time to unscrew and dismantle and pack up and discard. The big stuff leaves an obvious vacancy in the space near the front door—visible and therefore impressive. The small stuff, though—I'm talking about the knicky-knacky things, the shelves, the shower curtain (and rings), the mirrors, the plants, and the pots on the back porch, and the car gear in the basement—all that stuff takes up a lot of emotional space. The best strategy, no debate, is to tackle the small stuff while you are waiting for Freecyclers to venture out in the rain and snow to pick up the big stuff. 

Therefore, my downsizing victory today was removing the shower rings from the shower curtain rod. It was more difficult than I expected. I already packed the curtain. I never take showers because of the vertigo. 

My other victory today was enduring a Zoom meeting with my siblings without losing my serenity. Our mission was brief: to state aloud that we were all in agreement that we are going to hire the probate lawyer and to make a list of questions I am to ask her next week. I am not sure how I ended up the the facilitator of this endeavor, considering I am not the executor named in the will. Somewhere over the past five years, I volunteered to be Mom's personal rep, and even though now she's dead and doesn't need me anymore, I'm still it.  

The reward for being of service is the opportunity to do more service. It's easier for everyone if there is a control freak in the bunch, one person to step up and take the reins while the others enjoy the relief of not being saddled with the job. Did I just mangle some metaphors? Who is wearing the saddle in this case? I guess it is me. Well, get on up and hold on tight, kidlets. You asked for it. Away we go. Yee-haw.