Pierre and I were soul mates. One thing for sure was he was a pack rat also. I didn't think I could meet a man who kept the same kind of stuff I did and have such a hard time getting rid of it. We knowingly purchased our home from a similar minded individual and Pierre I think, was in a secret heaven. 1000 sq. ft. & 2 stories of cool stuff of someone's else's. After a while it became exhausting trying to wade thru this other stuff, plus Pierre's, plus mine, plus my mom's that I threw in 20 boxes and moved 10 times (thank you Lori.....you helped me most of those times). Not only did we have all of this stuff, we had a lot of animals and they had a lot of stuff.
When Pierre died, his darling father came over to try and help go thru the stuff. It was excruciating. Orville picked up a shoe box of things that Pierre had throw together when he came to live with me. It was sitting on a table full of the prior owners stuff, my saddles, motorcycle parts, pictures from Pierre's grandparents, hoof boots for the horses (several varieties) and a whole lot of dirt. Orville looked thru this box at every item and made a decision on what to do with it. It was hard to watch. About an hour later he had finished with the box and we still had 3500 more of the same to go thru. He left a week later, but I think we worked on re-stacking the wood pile instead. And drinking.
My boyfriend is moving into my place with his dog in 2 weeks. He sold his house and we are planning on building a log home on the land where my horses live. I don't have to worry about him bringing too much. He isn't a pack rat. I don't even know if he's kept anything from last week. His house is immaculate and you could eat off of the floor if you had to. How did I find him??? I wrote about him 9 days before I met him. I don't remember saying he should be really, really, really clean and not attached to anything, but apparently the universe felt I needed to straighten some stuff up. I remember reading that soul mates really aren't the ones you got along with and everything was peachy (not that it was with Pierre all the time, but he was really easy). They were the ones who made you stretch, tested you, pushed you, didn't put up with your shit. Hmmmm....it wasn't written exactly like that, but that's the gist I remember.
Today was the day T was coming over to go thru my garage so he has room for his tools and, in a perfect garage ~ his Viper. Now, mind you my garage is pretty decent. I could pull my car into it if I need to. I know where most of my stuff is. My dogs are using it as a dog room because of the rain and I do feed in there, as they all eat in crates. When I give bones, they are scattered all over for several days, then I do pick up most of them, leaving their favorites to chew on. I also blow out my dogs a lot in there, with the rain, baths, cleaning dirty paws. There's also a lot of hair.
T had mentioned several days ago that my garage was a mess. I told him to not remind me again, that I already knew that. That really didn't bother me. It was the secret little stuff that I didn't want him to go thru and tell me I needed to get rid of it. Stuff that reminds me of Pierre. Or, my dad, my mom, my first collie Kiita. It's junk and I can admit to that and I can agree with T, but I want to get rid of it on my terms without anyone looking. I had a little meltdown. It didn't last long, maybe an hour of silent sobbing, but I'm over it. (I'm writing. I love my blog.) I envy him, or my friend Dina or Jody. They can throw away notes with a departed loved one's handwriting on even if it's just a grocery list. I keep it. Or old dog leashes from my first collie that are broken. Somewhere in some box in the shop down south is my first mix dog Mischa's blanket, collar & favorite toy. I kept it in my closet for several years and would peer at it and start crying then quickly shut the door. It got moved 10 times all wrapped up in some box.
I feel better tonight. I fed my dogs. My garage is clean, everything is organized. I am a better person tonight than I was this morning. This universe has a way of throwing the lessons at me. Poor T. Wonder how he ended up with a woman with 7 dogs & 4 horses!
