I realized this morning that it’s not. It’s been 25 years.
The first five years were good. It was a home, comfortable and welcoming whenever I walked in. The next fifteen, not so much. My fault. Bad choices and all that. I’ve since fixed the situation but it ruined the feeling for me. Way too many bad memories for even the last good five years to rectify.
It is now just a house, the place I currently live. Things are starting to go wrong and I have absolutely no interest in fixing them. I’d much rather invest my hard earned money in my future and put it toward making an escape.
I have 25 years’ worth of accumulated stuff. Well, that which was not stolen during the dark period in the middle. I need to go through it and do a major purge. The task overwhelms me when I think on it so more often than not I wander off and don’t even begin. I had someone tell me once to do it in 20 minute increments. Wise advice. In theory that’s not so daunting. In practice I haven’t been able to decide where to force myself to begin.
This week two individuals who were adopted extended family during my childhood died. Both had good, long lives so while it’s sad and too soon it is not exactly tragic. But it has me thinking, since mine is rapidly becoming the generation that will soon begin to die out. Time to stop procrastinating and get to it. I still have so much to do. It’s just plain dumb of me to continue living in a place I’ve grown to hate.
Happy weekend, all.