. . .pitched and tossed

I make it sound as though I were out at sea in a desperate storm. Not really, I'm still working my way through my basement/studio. I knew when I asked my (ex)husband if he would help me clean it, and he answered, "I didn't make that mess, you know," that I was on my own. . . not really too surprising under the circumstances. The picture above shows the only piece of art that I have touched in a couple of weeks. . . it's a start, but I can't seem to get past this stage at this time. I keep getting sidetracked, finding back wonderful stuff and having to make fateful decisions as to the disposition of the fabulous stuff.






Like this shelf of old books (well, maybe not the Reader's Digest.) It's one of three shelves of old books, pamphlets, etc. I can't bear to part with them right now. Maybe later.





And what about this old lens testing kit? I love it, love it, love it, even though I will never make the collaged pendants that I had planned. The box itself is wonderful.

This picture shows a bit of the mess I will tackle today. I know, I should be ashamed that it ever got to this point. I watched a show, "Hoarders" yesterday on TV. . . this could be a segment on that show. At least this is just a small space. There's a scoop shovel in my plans for this week.





But here's a part that's been cleared and organized. Christmas ornaments and Santa collection culled to two or three crates; Halloween stuff in one-plus bin. Not sure I will put up the big tree this year, or the big heavy lit wreath that usually hangs in the beautiful arched window above the front door. I'm a bit of a Scrooge this year. I was invited to a cookie exchange Saturday night, which required that I make a couple dozen cookies. Unfortunately I fell asleep waiting for a concoction that was supposed to take an hour to bake. It wasn't burned too badly. . . I cut out the bad bits. I probably never be invited back.