The last three weekends have not been weekends at all. They’ve been the two non-workday workdays that connect Monday through Friday of one week to Monday through Friday of the next. The house in Galveston needs a great deal of work and it falls to my husband, his older sister and I to get the job done, since their younger sister lives out of state. One or more of us has arrived and spent anywhere between 8 and 12 hours each Saturday cleaning out drawers, cabinets, closets, etc. of the accumulation of forty years of life. Yesterday we actually arrived around noon and worked until 3:00 a.m. Sunday morning. A five hour “nap,” and we were back at it until heading home around 10:30 a.m.
I think it was around 2:00 a.m. on Sunday morning that the three of us collapsed in the front room to catch our breaths for a minute. We started thinking about how much had been purged and my accountant sister-in-law calculated that each of the two city trashcans held approximately 10 trash bags. We’d filled them to overflowing each weekend, putting them to the curb. We’ve thrown away roughly 60 bags of trash and other sundry, non-sentimental items that have no value to any of us, or anyone who may come through the estate sale being planned to happen in a few weeks.
Then the REAL work begins. Getting the financing to have the foundation repaired, flooring replaced, wallpaper stripped and walls textured and painted. And that’s just what I can think of off the top of my head. Of course, to minimize the amount to be borrowed, we’ll pitch in and do whatever labor we can – the foundation will be repaired professionally, but I have a feeling that we’ll be doing the floors, stripping the wallpaper, texturing and painting the walls. Then the house will either be put on the market as a residential rental, or possibly a vacation rental.
I’m tired just thinking about it!
On the way home, we took the Bluewater Highway and at one point my husband pulled over to respond to a text message. He’d pulled onto the beach from the access road and I couldn’t help but hop out and take a few photographs while he typed out his message.