Hell Week

Nope, not the final seven days for SEAL trainees. Not even final exams, which in no way equals Hell Week for SEALS. I'm talking about getting the contents of my parents' house ready for an estate sale.

I have polished silver until I'm ready to lobby for a ban on the stuff. Washing crystal without chipping it has to be insanity incarnate. And all those once-beautiful linens? Yikes. Getting out old coffee stains should qualify me for sainthood. BTW, they don't really come out. Mostly, I marvel at all the STUFF my parents accumulated in their many years of traveling all over the world. A ton of it ended up in the attic, where it did no one any good.

I have taken this lesson to heart. As soon as we get through this week, I am going to start "shaking down," as my grandmother used to say. Starting with my attic, something is going to leave our abode every day. Love it, use it, or lose it is my new mantra.

I mean it, too!