"You're the overachiever in the family," my dad said tonight with a smile, a mixture of pride and humor so characteristic of him. We'd just finished his 2017 taxes and were searching for two Amazon book orders. One he had found easily. The other was lost in the piles of stuff.
I had asked him which bookshelves would most likely hold the missing book. Dad pointed to a few: one downstairs, one in his bedroom, one in the kitchen. The problem, he explained, was that he didn't note where the book was located in the description - a notation he does to more recent acquisitions because he has so many books in his "collection".
He's right, though. I am an overachiever. I always have been. When there's a job to do, I will work on it until it is finished. And particularly if this job is for other people.
My sisters are going to hate me when we have to clean out Mom and Dad's house. I will tear this house apart, I will categorize stuff, I will clean out cabinets until their stuff is gone because the sooner the stuff goes, the sooner we can gut the house and redo it. I know there's already a fair amount of work that will go into it before we can sell. It's either that or we sell with remodeling in mind which means it will have to go for cheap.
Either way, the clutter has to go. I've already got categories in mind. There's the stuff we can donate (blankets/sheets, towels, new toiletries, food). There's the stuff we can sell at a steep discount (Christmas junk, baskets, games, pet stuff). There's the stuff that we can sell cheap to college kids (furniture, electronics, pots and pans). There will be the family stuff which will be sorted and divided among us (dishes).
The whole time, I will be sad and crying on the inside, but on the outside I will be putting on a good face. I will be shouting directions and delegating and organizing. Because that's what an overachiever does.
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