Auburn Gal Always

This tackling didn't happen on Tuesday. It happened on Friday and Saturday. I was tackled by this tackling. It was already on my "to do list," but The Mighty Hunter was the reason it happened this weekend.

Just a little bit of history would be helpful... The Migty Hunter's mother died almost 7 years ago. His father works in Florida - or wherever insurance catastrophes have occurred - and is NEVER home. 2 years ago, we moved into his home. We have not-so-successfully merged the contents of two homes into one. This home is a wonderful blessing. But there is the very thin tight-rope-walk that I experience when cleaning out the contents of closets and storage, which makes it difficult for me to simply clean out things that were The Mighty Hunter's mother's. There are just some decisions that have to be made that I don't want to make.

So, when The Mighty Hunter asked why there was a small hacksaw (in its unopened packaging) in the kitchen drawer, we began. And, oh, the things we found. Baggies full of nuts, bolts, washers, nails, screws. Twisty ties. 2 rolls of wide duct tape. Stapler. Extension cords. Fuses of all kinds. Light bulbs. Mystery cylindrical things that required 1 AA battery, but emitted very high frequency squeals (yes, I can hear them and The Mighty Hunter can't), which we suspect is some way his mom attempted to keep mosquitos away.

The drawers were pretty quickly finished and the mess removed. We reorganized the contents and put little containers inside to hold the junk and other miscellany.

After picking Stinkerbell up from school and taking her to singing lessons, we returned with the plan of dying her Easter eggs and then she going home with my parents for the night. But that plan became questionable when I returned home to find The Mighty Hunter standing on a stool, cleaning out the highest cabinets. This would be manageable if he hadn't already emptied the canned foods from the lower cabinets and left them in groups, on the floor, on the counter, in the sink and in the dish drainer. He had washed many of them because a can of pineapple slices had begun to leak and had spread its spoiled, brown, stickyness around on many, many other cans. You might think that we would have known this by the smell. Nope. It didn't smell at all. I've been in those cabinets daily without smelling a thing. And my nose works just as well as my ears. Still the cans were sticky. Ick. Ick. Ick.

You see, I had already planned to tackle the general-admission-standing-room-only-crowd of canned food. Most of which were tossed in the garbage. Yes, some went to a local food pantry. But the scary thing about canned food is that you can't always tell if it's spoiled. It doesn't always make the can bulge. It doesn't always smell funky. Food poisoning can be invisible and unscented.




That's just 2 shots of the disorganized and evil clutter.

Here are 2 shots of my masterfully organized accomplishment.