When I first told No.2 Sis that I wanted to start a home blog (thinking of all the DIY projects I want to do), she said, “You’ll have to admit you’re a hoarder, and be honest about your feelings!”.

Whoa. On the long road from Minimalism, I’m pretty sure I’m at least one bus stop short of Hoarderville. After all, I can use (most of ) the rooms in my house for their intended purpose, I can see (a path in) the floor in  every room, and I can get my car (barely) into the garage. Okay, so I’m a hoarder. But, I know with certainty that I will never find the flattened, dessicated carcass of a missing family pet under a stack of boxes. I’m not THAT kind of hoarder.

One cat, present and accounted for.

One cat, present and accounted for.

And be honest about my feelings? Really? I’m the girl that raced home from school every day to watch Star Trek reruns, not for pretty boy Captain Kirk, but for Spock. Cool, calm, logical…I wanted to be just like him. Though I never could master the one eyebrow raised look.

So, hi-ho, hi-ho, it’s off de-hoarding I go. The first 27 boxes and bags were easy. Most came from the garage. I threw unopened boxes and barely peeked-in bags in the trunk of my car, Gypsy Blue.  (what, you don’t name your car? Weird.) I dropped them at Goodwill in 3 separate trips with nary a pang nor backward glance.  Feelings, schmeelings!

But then the Polar Vortex hit and it was far too cold to work in the garage.  I moved into the Queen bedroom (I have no master) and things started to get harder.

Stay tuned…