We had a fun day today. My second son turned nine and Grammy came down for his birthday dinner.
As she left tonight, she loaded up her van . . . with stuff from my house.
Stuff like:
A sweet (but not really my style) framed picture that I’d borrowed for several years because I needed to fill a space.
A baker’s rack I’ve run into about three times a day in the breakfast area.
A really cool antique-ey wire hat/wig holder that just no longer works in my new and improved master bedroom.
Flower arrangements that the kids made with her that were displayed for a while but had overstayed their welcome.
Aaaaaahhhhh. Basically, it was all stuff I felt guilty about getting rid of, but that guilt doesn’t count if I give it to my mom.
And yes. I understand the irony since I don’t want to be given anyone else’s guilt-producing clutter, but most of it was really her stuff just borrowed for a while.
(Can you believe how clean her vehicle is? I know. It’s like we’re not even related!)