As many of you know I bought a house recently and that tale alone is a long and twisted one. But now it has a new wrinkle. When we bought the house I understood that we had a decent size attic. Which I fully intended to use as we need the storage space, me being a collector of masses of useless items. The only issue at the time was that we had just scuttle access. Which anyone with boxes full of things knows just doesn't work, go ahead try and shove a box over your head while standing on a step stool and also getting it through a tiny hole at the same time. It ain't happening. So in the process of our heat conversion I was able to get attic stairs put in, which to this day I am thrilled about. Now of course I lost some space to the new furnace but nothing that would kill me.
I have recently begun the unenviable task of moving things into the attic. And it is has turned into a full blown war of me versus this cold and dark place. First we had to put in plywood to make sure I didn't fall through into the ceilings below. Then it was removing some of the insulation as it was overloaded. And now it is trying to configure what now seems to be to the most insanely put together space in my lifetime. Beams reach from here to there threatening my skull at ever turn, as my bruised noggin can attest. Plywood creaks under the strain of newly placed boxes. While also trying to configure some method where I won't have to move everything all over again when I need it, such as holiday decorations.
Then of course there is my love affair with books. Which maybe my mistress but are a pain in the ass to store. I keep telling myself I should donate them or otherwise dispose of them. But I keep hedging on it at every turn. And of course all my reference materials need to be close enough to my new stairs so that I don't have to dig to get to them. I know, I know just use the Internet. But now and again I do need to look in an actually book to be sure I am not incorrectly stating the time lines of the Roman emperors are some other such thing.
And it seems to me that at every turn this room finds ways to vex me. Be it bumping my head or almost falling through the ceiling or finding I can't stock boxes a certain way because it makes it impossible to get to another set of boxes. I keep fighting the battle but am now under the impression the battle will never cease. And in the end the damn attic will probably win.
ART SALES ARE BACK!
1 year ago