STUFF Everywhere

I stood at the top of the basement stairs listening for conference call voices.  Hearing silence, I opened the door and called down.

“Be sure to charge your devices.  There’s a good chance we are going to lose power.”

“It’s storming out?” Bob called back.  “I had no idea.”

All of a sudden, my mind went hash tagging: #basementworkinglife #workinginfluorescents #tunnelvision

“Yes, it is pretty bad outside, and the power keeps flickering.  Best to charge up now, just in case.”

Closing the door, I checked on the devices of sleeping children, and then I began to charge my own. 

The rain was so loud on the drive to my gym that I could not hear my audiobook being read to me.  I had to detour on my route home as trees had downed and blocked the road.

Sitting at the dining room table, my makeshift desk, I watched the rain from the window.  It hammered down from the left.  Moments later, it was powering from the right.  It hit the ground with such force, Forrest Gump played in my head:

“It even rained from the ground up.”

It appeared that it was never going to stop.  The clouds were full and prepared to provide hours of weather.  Weather I was ready for, even hopeful for, if it meant a break from the excessive heat and humidity.

Heavy rain being a weakness for our house in places, I walked around the house with towels to get any excess rain from broken seals, a bucket for the constantly leaking fireplace.

And stumbled on toys.  Again.

One of the things I liked best about our house when we bought it, was the finished basement.

When we moved here, oh so many years ago, the older children were babies, with dreams of a Declan far away in our heads. 

With babies come toys.  Big plastic contraptions to roll around and climb on.  Playpens.  Strollers. Train tables, big plastic princess castles. Big STUFF.  Lots of STUFF.  STUFF that needed a place to go.

A finished basement was the perfect answer.  I had my living quarters upstairs and the kids had their play quarters downstairs.

When Bob moved his work into the basement, there was a slow shift.  As time moved on, I no longer ran on my treadmill.  I run hotter, hillier, shorter distances outside on the trails.  The kids no longer use the basement to hangout or play.  But most of all, there has been a transition of STUFF.

The “Do, do, do, do, do – do” music of video games plays on repeat in my living quarters.  On two TV’s.  Gaming consoles got moved from the basement.  Another TV was moved to the front room for more gaming opportunities.  The toy chest of plushies got relocated to our living area.  The trampoline that found some time in the basement for private jumping is rolled around the main floor, only to be tripped over.  Baskets of toy figures emerged for “who do you think would win in a battle” battles.  Art supplies dumped for possible drawing time.  With strawberry butts and apple cores littered around rooms.

In short, it is overwhelming.  STUFF is always everywhere.

In exasperation, I have thrown bags of plushies down the stairs for a moment of respite.  Only to have an exasperated Declan tow them all back up the stairs with a stern reprimand.

“Stop doing that.”

In my pre quarantine days, I needed a clean house to sit at my computer to write.  Or pay bills. Or read.  I could not focus on anything if there was a mess, shoes out of the shoe bin, toys on the floor – anywhere.  Clean living quarters is a luxury I have, no more.

Now, Declan needs some space to play.  Apparently, a lot of space.  I can be (*gulp*) flexible.  I can accept some STUFF around and still (kind of) function.   This is just one more COVID transition or adaptation to make.  I can do this!

So, I claim the dining room table, my working space, as my own clean space.  To sit and read or write.  Pay bills.  And watch as the weather unfolds itself with great ferocity outside my window.

(I wrote this yesterday, but was unable to post as we ended up losing power for over 8 hours.  After acquiescing the generator was not going to work, we collected candles and flashlights.  By the end of the night there were four headlamps sitting around a table, blinding each other while we played games as Declan walked around watching his well charged device.  Thankfully, power has been restored, the weather has cooled (some), and I am back to shuffling around Declan’s STUFF.)