I figured out a problem with StickyBrain, the wonderful catch-all program I use to snag information. I figured out the archiving problem with Blogger. I was ready to spend hours scanning in a file box full of ... nothing? No drawings or photos or interesting odd bits, just notes from a financial planning seminar I'd taken once upon a time. So. It didn't take all that long to discard that pile of clutter, nothing to scan.
Eventually I ought to be able to whittle down my former mountains of clutter into -- nothing. Next to nothing. Product information about the washer and dryer, stuff like that. I've been getting rid of stuff as quickly and as thoroughly as possible.
Maybe beginning with the '76 Campmobile last summer.
I enjoyed re-equipping the house after Diane's departure. Still reeling about that. All year long it's been something I'll think about for a few minutes and then put it out of my mind. Just too much to think about. Another insurance company letter arrived indicating that she'd been in ANOTHER accident. I ought to be taking care of her, but she had to be her usual smarty-pants self and handle her own medication. After all I've been through with her being accused of treating her in any way other than loving and gentle remains a stark insult. The gas leak that night, to say nothing of her delusions, brought about a mechanical reaction. Go. Gone. Stay gone. Don't call. Don't write. Just go away.
It's not healed, it's barely closed. This year had an odd sense of finality about it, but I didn't expect Diane to be departing. Yet here we are. Wait until the end of January and see what transpires. She'll always be the kids' mom, but I don't want her driving them anywhere or have them stay at her house without additional supervision. I don't feel that I'm being unreasonable.
I'm glad to have straightened out the software issue and the archive issue on blogger.com. It's good to have things straightened out and working right. Like keeping your lines clear on a sailboat.
It's been a long year. Now it's nearly over.
I feel like making some bread. Something positive and home-inducing to work on. I ought to get busy on that.
