It's a beautiful today in the Pacific Northwest. Temperatures in the 60s, sunshine, trees and flowers blooming. Days are getting longer. There's no place better.
But I get restless in the spring.
I think it's because this is the time of year when I want to declutter, make lots of trips to Goodwill to drop things off I no longer need. Clean up the yard. Go through closets and thin out the excess. I did that for many years of my life. But not so much in the last twenty or so.
My husband is a collector of things, a saver. He's a handyman with multiple ongoing or potential projects, a man with many tools, lots of wood and PVC pipe and corrugated metal sheets and parts and gadgets. He never knows when he's going to need something - so he keeps it all. I love that he's a fixer, a repairer, an assembler of Adirondack chairs, a washer of trucks. I don't love it that every scrap of wood gets kept, every old nut and screw and bolt is retained, every ancient sponge and squeegee stays with us. The boxes climb haphazardly in the garage, or they spill over the metal storage racks.
I think about the possibility of downsizing sometime in the next few years. I can't imagine how that will happen. We have so, so much stuff. Well, not really. My husband has so, so much stuff. We may have to get several storage units. Or a small house with an enormous garage or shed.
There are lots of things I'm grateful for about this husband. He's generous and hard working. He does all the shopping and cooking. He's a wonderful traveling companion. He's smart and, most of the time, good company.
In the springtime, though, I could use a little order.
Tiny Spears At Ten Paces
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