Last night I unpacked a large cardboard box and this morning just broke it down and dumped it in the recycling. Big news, right?
When our five-year-old had a new cancer diagnosis and I was at the hospital more than I was at home, I flew around the house throwing things into boxes to "clean up." I also packed up a bunch of the children's toys and moved them to the attic because I knew none of us could manage regular cleaning up.
In the 21 months since Thomas was finally discharged from the hospital, I've put nearly everything back to rights . . . except this one box.
This box was full of random things that belonged all over the house (or in the garbage), so it just sat in the attic for probably a year. One day I ceremoniously brought it down from the attic and it then sat on our bedroom floor for much of the second year. Occasionally I would try to deal with it, really give myself a kick in the behind, I'd move it from one place in the bedroom to another place, and I just couldn't even go there. Like it was just too much.
Well, last night it wasn't too much, so I sorted through and made decisions about what feels like "the last box." (I hope it's the last box from that era and I don't have more hidden boxes around!)
(Stock image of cardbox box from Wikipedia)
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