For reasons known only to himself, whenever I find myself in the middle of an unavoidable royal mess, The Squire will decide to turn it into an even bigger mess.
When we were in the middle of remodelling the kitchen, and I had pots and pans all over the dining room table, spices in boxes on the sofa, and canned goods in the guest room, my dearly beloved husband decided to push all the stuff off one end of the dining room table and sort out his genealogy pictures.
This morning, he went into the attic to bring down the bins of winter clothes, and discovered a carton marked “pictures to be sorted”. These of course, could not possibly wait until I had gone through my clothes, but had to be handled at once. We now have umpteen stacks of photos – the kids, grandkids, aunts, uncles, and Heaven-knows-who-those-folks-are all over the den and the table. In the meantime, I am trying desperately to decide what gets kept and what gets donated. And, after looking at some of these pictures, there is another huge pile of I-couldn’t-possibly-had-that-since-I-was-at-Hopkins! We found a shot of one of the granddaughter’s first birthday party; she is studying for her Ph.D. and I still use that tablecloth. Might be time for a new one. The table is 100 inches long, so I’ll have to hit Joann’s for 3 yards of something.
Just thinking about it makes me tired – and I can’t go to bed until I clear off the bed. Eh. Just dump it all back into the bin.
thisendoftheswamp 
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