One of my big fears has always been that I would be my mother, shuffling from room to room of my house with my walker, crying, while other people decided what to do with my stuff. Watching someone chuck my "treasures" in a black trash bag.

So my big plan (you can laugh now) was: after I retire, I'll start working on getting rid of stuff, making decisions, labeling, etc.

Well, guess what? I was going to retire at 65-68, and have PLENTY of time to do that before I started to lose my physical capabilities and my marbles. Here I am 61, less capabilities and marbles, retired on disability almost 3 years ago, facing a monumental task that I thought I'd have 20 more years to work on.

Am I REALLY that stupid? Did I REALLY think I could plan my future, all nice and neat, count on twenty good years after I retired? Hellooooo, anybody home in there?

So that's my big project. I can't promise myself that I'm going to get rid of everything. I'm not quite ready to admit that I'll never use my craft stuff, my fabric, yarn, etc. or read all my books again. But at least I'll peck away at it, slap labels on stuff: "yarn", "newspaper clippings", "size 8 slacks"....

....with the spare spoons I have left every day. Ha.