So today I will go clean the last of my stuff out of the storage area. Then I have to get rid of it all out of the driveway, and the "neighborhood garage sale" is being a total bust, which I think I could have predicted if I'd spent any time thinking about it. (Zero publicity, zero organization; result, a few people cruising through playing "looky-loo", and nobody really shopping.)
Which means tomorrow a flurry of calling people and organizations to come get stuff. It's more important to me to be rid of it than to monitor where it goes. Better planning on my part, and this purge would have happened two years ago.
After I get done with this week's chaos, I focus on the Arcology and the Ficton. *Two* foci I'm pretty sure I can handle right now.
Self policing is a terribly necessary task. So I'm wondering why I didn't spend the afternoon reorganizing the stuff in the driveway.
True, it was 98F out there. Mostly in the shade, but 98F in the shade is still 98F. That just makes it unpleasant, and I can work through unpleasantness.
The reason I paid attention to was my body saying "Don't do this." I have a great deal of history of ignoring what my body is saying to me, and paying attention to it is a good thing and something I need to learn to be much better at. But I do like knowing *why* it is telling me to do, or not to, something. Bodies aren't always very good at communication, and mine in particular doesn't spend a lot of time or effort explaining itself.
So heat was probably not the reason. I got the last load out of the storage area this morning, so my body was fine with doing physical work, and it was less than a half-load, so exhaustion wasn't the reason either. Adequate reason to take a nap, which I did. So why didn't I get up from my nap and go sort boxes? Or, more accurately, why did I consider my idea, and then listen to my body's veto of it?
Still working on this. Right now, I don't know.
Friend Steve will be by tonight, and will take half a dozen bookcases, and whatever else looks good. I hope to persuade him to take the electric cooler -- it's a standard picnic chest with a built-in cooling unit, so if you have a place to plug it in it becomes an actual refrigerator. In the morning I'll call Goodwill, and they can take the entertainment center, the kitchen chairs, the card tables and chairs, and probably some other stuff. And then I can see what's left and make some decisions about it.