I'm punch drunk tonight. Too much caffeine today. Too little rest. Too much coughing. Too little sounding like myself and a little too much resemblance to the great Louis Armstrong. And for whatever reason, with my gravely, raw voice, I find that I cannot stop singing scat. At one point on the phone with my daughter tonight, she asked me to please stop, or she would have to hang up. :::sigh::: I get no respect.
But you know...it's not often that I have a voice that sounds like Mr. Armstrong. And not often that I'm punch drunk enough to not be able to stop. Oh well. I may as well go with the flow and enjoy myself.
I was not able to finish the insurance paperwork today. With the hubby being at work, the middle daughter hounded me. She believed I spent enough time taking my test and I should be done. I did make plenty of progress today. I just didn't finish.
I have to make a couple of phone calls tomorrow for last minute price checks. I only have to figure out the claims for 6 things. Well, sort of. One of those 6 things are adorable things that the kids made in school and brought home. Their masterpieces. And how am I possibly going to assess a value to them? They're irreplaceable.
I did take pictures of each individual one, so I have the memory. Unfortunately, the memory now includes the mildew, mold and water damage on these priceless works of art. I'm hoping I can use some photo editing software and cover the mildew somehow. Eventually, I'd love to put all the pictures in an electronic picture frame, so we can enjoy them whenever we want. Still. It won't be the same, and I have no idea how to calculate what they're worth.
One of my favorite things that was destroyed I had every intention of hanging on the wall for eternity. I just hadn't gotten around to it. When our oldest was about 9, she had to make a family tree with her parents. We spent hours on it, and it turned out beautifully. It was a huge tree, because I come from a very large family, and by the time both mine and hubby's families were combined on the board, it was hard to fit everyone on there.
After cutting out several individual leaves and making the background for the tree, she cut out roughly 60 hearts. They each hung from a small piece of yarn like apples waiting to be plucked. Each heart had a different name on it. From her grandparents on down. All of her aunts and uncles and cousins and sisters were on this big, beautiful family tree. She was so proud of it. We were so proud of her. She worked so hard on it!
I loved the fact that she chose to put hearts on it instead of apples. That she wanted everyone to know that family symbolized love to her.
How do I possibly put a price tag on something that beautiful?
Compulsive hoarding is a mental disorder that is just beginning to be understood. As a hoarder, I have acquired things over the years with a specific purpose in mind at the time of the acquisition, used some of those items for their intended purposes, forgotten the goal for different objects, but now that I find that they have outlived their purpose in my life I am struggling to rid myself of those same things.
You can read the start of my journey here.