clearing up, clearing out

Should keep this an orange blowhole free zone, but ... people are making such funny, clever things!

We always celebrate the last class of term with a party, but this term, at both universities, we're celebrating during the second last class because a few students can't make the following week. Last night, I arrived at Ryerson to the most amazing sight - a table covered with food: samosas, sushi, dumplings, dips, cheeses and breads, six desserts and wine, plus every desk with a little candle burning. That was a rollicking class, I can tell you.

The reno is getting serious. Jean-Marc laid it on the line yesterday - so very, very much has to be packed up and stored somewhere. We're starting on Monday by ripping apart the basement, my storage room, which was jam-packed and had to be cleared out. This is what, by some miracle and a lot of hauling, my friend Nicole, my homeless helper Bill, and I achieved today.

But this is what my kitchen looked like. There's a ton of stuff out on the sidewalk, including a futon from upstairs. Please, take it away!

It's going to be crazy around here for some months. But this is my chance to get rid of junk. Or at least to store it more effectively. Here's the kind of problem I face, tho' - artwork and a poem about walking with my father - "Memorys Shining Bright" - that Anna made in Grade 3. Love is! What to do with treasures like this?

Here, a writer explores this very problem in the latest New Yorker: 

https://www.newyorker.com/humor/daily-shouts/an-inventory-of-all-my-possessions-before-and-after-i-moved-apartments