Moving things around...

 

 

 

 

In an effort to jolt me out of my uncharacteristic fall malaise I felt a change was necessary.  Pictured above is the school room/office as it was.  As you may remember, we made a big change earlier this year by moving the playroom out of this room and into the basement - thus moving the school stuff out of the living room and into this space.  I spent all summer culling books so that it would eventually ALL fit.  Every last schoolbook and manipulative.  I took this picture just over a month ago.   I was so pleased - and secretly proud of myself for shedding so much unnecessary stuff.  And then it hit.

 

Uugh.

 

Maybe I worked too hard?

 

I no longer had any initiative to do anything...

 

Several half-hearted schoolweeks later a change had to take place.  Maybe it's my body just knows that the seasons are changing and SAD is coming early??  So, even though the above room had been in place for a few months, I changed it back.  It was not nearly as much of an undertaking as it was to get it in there - that is the blessing of a lot less 'stuff'.  I even took the time to go through the file drawers and re alphabetize everything that got UNalphabetized during the last shuffle.  And, since I was going through the files, I even opened them to see what I could pitch, shred or finally place in the firebox - an effort that we have talked about since the day we combined households.  This task yielded some rather interesting things...

 

First.  (my husband is going to kill me)  In the TRAFFIC TICKETS folder where I keep my treasured parking violations that I have received from the Denver PD, there also happened to be a SUBSTANTIAL pile of old speeding tickets of Dean's - courtesy of the Kansas, Oklahoma, Texas and Colorado State Patrol, as well as the cities of Longmont, Loveland (CO), and Moore, Norman and The Village (OKC). 

 

 

TWENTY TICKETS

 

 

I did not know this about my husband.  I knew he had a (ahem) speeding problem, but I didn't know it was to the tune of this many tickets.  Luckily for me he is a packrat that never throws away a piece of paper - or I would have never found out.  To his defense, they were not ALL speeding tickets.  A couple were warnings.  :)  And let it be known now.... my husband will never, NEVER be allowed to purchase a sports car. Again.

 

Second.  I came across the application for a marriage license that my former husband and I filled out on March 16th, 2004.  It was exactly a year to the day before I went out on my first date with my now-husband, Dean.  Weird. 

 

Third.  When placing all of the passports, birth certificates, marriage licenses/certificates and divorce decrees in the firebox (I find it kinda funny that we each have a previous set of these), I placed Dean's and my marriage certificate on top of my old one.  Dean asked, "Do they have to touch??"  So I bundled the old one with the divorce decree that goes with it and buried it at the bottom of the box, where it belongs.

 

Fourth.  My old dog, Yuki, passed away six years ago.  Yet I still had every single vet bill, rabies vaccine certificate and license information.  I'm not sure why I held on to them, but I was definitely ready to part with them.  I kept her certificate of completion for her dog obedience course - because it is just absolutely laughable.  For all who knew this loveable, yet very naughty husky, you will get the irony.

 

Fifth.  I went through all of my teaching evaluations.  That was a mistake.  I spent a couple of hours trying to rid myself of a very foul mood after that.  My evaluations were very good - and one of them was even stellar.  That one, in particular, came just three weeks before my jackass of a Principal informed me that he would not renew my teaching certificate.  I again, felt the overwhelming urge to blow the whistle on the CSAP cheats that *still* teach at his school.  And then I got over it.

 

Sixth.  I spent a good deal of time thinking about why we hang on to the stuff that we do.  I think that, for the most part, we hang on to it to remember a different time in our lives.  But if the time period wasn't a particulary pleasant one, why do we keep the stuff?  I have do not need a reminder in order to not repeat an unpleasant experience.  I think that sometimes we do it just to torture ourselves.  If we rake ourselves over the coals enough times, than we have done adequate penance for whatever transgressions we made.  But what if you didn't do anything wrong?  I do not want to keep my former teaching contracts, evaluations, student teaching paperwork, or the paperwork from the 18 different workshops I attended.  I don't ever plan to teach again... but I can't bring myself to get rid of it yet.  It's like I haven't done *enough* time yet.  I just keep saying "What if I need this again??".  WHY would I ever need to PROVE that I took a course on Empowering Writers by Barbara Miraconda to anyone?  The homeschool police? (that don't exist).

 

 

I forgot what I was even trying to say in this post...  Moving things around?  I guess I was gearing towards perspective.  My perspective is off.  Life has become an endless stream of activity times to remember and childhood mayhem to suppress.  I am trying to shake things up to gain my perspective back.  Unfortunately, sifting through a three foot long stretch of file folders didn't do much for me but harden my resolve to not ever return to public education, let my husband drive, or hang on to frequent-flyer miles that were racked up over a decade ago. 

 

 

I think my next effort will be geared towards getting outside and enjoying the fall weather.  I have a feeling that the schoolwork will be at a minimum again...