My plan for the day was just to get my house in order. No worrying about writing, other people, getting out of the house, doing anything except clearing up the supremely gigantic mess that has been made of my house over the past two weeks.

It’s now 1PM and I’m feeling like maybe that was an overly ambitious plan. And maybe I should go back to stressing myself out about writing instead, because it’d be easier. Or maybe I should just go back to bed.

It’s strange to drag all of your past out into the light and examine it. Trying to decide what to keep, what should go, what matters, what doesn’t. We have, of course, many DVDs. Not an atypical number, I don’t think, but an assortment. I’ve got four complete seasons of the Simpsons. Keep or sell or discard? My first impulse was keep, of course, because R loved them, but I easily managed to over-ride that impulse. They’re out for the garage sale now and if they don’t sell, they can go to Goodwill. The Sixth Sense. I loved that movie. That DVD goes into a “maybe I’ll watch this again before I decide” pile. Star Wars, Lord of the Rings… garage sale. But the cleaning issue is that every single solitary thing has to get thought about. And with a lot of things, spread everywhere, all that thinking adds up.

Some of the decisions go with the writing that’s connected to my marriage. I spent an hour today reading the journal where I fell in love with my ex. At the end, I threw it in my bedroom trash can. Did I pick the bedroom so that I could change my mind and pull it out in a few hours without worrying about coffee grounds or other ickiness on it? Yeah, I think so. Am I going to? Probably not. If it was filled with happiness, I might, but it wasn’t. The seeds of doom were planted early in that relationship and in retrospect, they were pretty obvious, even that first year.

Yesterday I spent an hour reading another journal, the one from our first break-up. Oh, I wish I could go back in time and yell at my former self. There’s one particular section where I’m agonizing about why he doesn’t trust me and I just wanted to slap myself. I almost saw it, so close, so damn close! He had accused me of reading a letter that he’d left in the room and my feelings were hurt. Why would he think I would do something like that? I would never. Around and around and around about what it meant that he didn’t trust me and never once did I stop to think, “Maybe it means that he is not trustworthy.” Came close once, when I questioned what he was writing that he was worried about me seeing, but if only I’d taken that thought just a little farther. Ugh. And sadly, that was before I married him. If only…

But this isn’t either getting my house clean or getting my words on Grace in, so I should move on. Last week three houses in my neighborhood had sales pending. This week, all three of those sales have fallen through. That probably means that they didn’t get appraised at the prices that people were willing to pay (I think) so the market is heating up but the banks may not be on board yet. Alas. But that’s okay. I keep reminding myself that I don’t have to be in a rush, and I don’t, but I’d really like to move on to the fun part of this big adventure instead of wallowing in the hard part.

I’ll get there, though. And meanwhile, the pile labelled “watch/read before deciding” is big enough to keep me busy for weeks.