Saturday, March 26, 2011

Shredding, unblocking, some last remains

In my office there are signs of a struggle. A shredder lies pulled apart, and paper bits litter half the carpet. area. Plus, a vacuum cleaner lies wounded in pieces, with 2 Phillips screwdrivers, 2 knitting needles, a wooden dowel and a bent wire hanger on the desk. The seat of the chair has a big rip in it, and documents lie in piles in front of the computer screen and scanner. This is the last bit of my Amherst house.

At least I hope it is, wrapping it up for the tax man.

I had to scan in many documents and dig down into e-mails from the accountant. Is this as strenuous as grouting the bathroom floor in the apt.? Almost--not quite so hard on the knees though. The old brain--or the brain on Lyrica--has difficulty keeping the complexities in order. Finally after hours of sorting piles and scanning, I hear my lone cry of the widow: "I did it!"

This is only the last (I hope) of several weeks of doing the papers. In fact, I'm good at paperwork. The taxes are understood and known down to their last irregularities. But now for mechanical work: have to unplug the little shredder and go at it with a letter opener to unjam it. Then big curls of paper fall out. I lug the vacuum from downstairs and start vacuuming up these shreds. The dog is pacing in and out; she feels trapped between the machine and the piles. She leaps, farts, and shrieks when a high-pitched scream starts from the vacuum hose. Something's stuck in there.

This was the major event of the morning, the solitary adventure I suppose we all have--unjamming the wedged in something or other with the knitting needles, screwdriver and so forth. I shine desk light down hose and barely see something wooden stuck in there. I am praising the rescuers who got Jessica McClure out of the well 23 years ago. Jam, push, go in with hanger. Go in really HARD. Meanwhile the paper bits float around, sticking to my good pants etc. Finally with one last little nudge in the other direction, the blocking thing falls down the hose. It turns out to be one of those wooden pulls on the end of the venetian blind cord. In triumph, not having to call a man, not having the replace the hose, I vacuum the shreds away. To me, they represent tail ends of a greenhouse full of 50 gallons of toxic waste that I took to 2 different special dump days, then had the greenhouse and shed pulled down, a new deck and a pond filled in. They are all that is left leases with tenants and special escrow accounts. I'm done with huge blocks of furniture, piles of rubbish and old tires,with headachey-inducing e-mails from incompetent lawyers. Can I finally start my life now?

This is a typical day when the "on" switch is flipped in my body. Which still happens occasionally--about once every 2 weeks.


Anonymous Anonymous said...

And all that before having to head out to pick up a sick grandson and put on the grandma-babysitter hat for the afternoon. What a big day!

9:46 PM  

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