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It’s long been a dream of mine to see … no, not Istanbul or Rome, I’m a simple girl. I only want to see the cellar floor again.

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When we moved into this house 20 years ago we had a gloriously empty 2,000 square foot basement… and I had visions of carefully organized storage shelves so our closets would never burst open again. Sadly this never came to fruition because my husband filled it to the brim with crap, clutter, things he didn’t need and will never use stuff in no time flat. And when I say filled, I mean up to the rafters with barely a path from front to rear. I haven’t seen the floor in years.

So when the husband retired a few months ago and had lots of spare time on his hands, I did what any thoughtful wife would do and subtly suggested now would be a good time to go through his mess, useless junk, rubble treasure once and for all.

But as my title says, I should have been careful what I wished for. Because as I suggested, my husband started sifting though his massive piles of detritus below ground.

The problem is…. it all began to float upstairs.

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Now? There’s a World War II poster/map on my den reading chair.

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There are railroad cars on my kitchen counter.

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There are boxes, bags and assorted dreck on my office floor.

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As well as stamps and a broken clock on my auxiliary desk. So basically, it’s everywhere… and I fear for the future of our living space.

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Because if all that makes it’s way upstairs? I may end up sleeping on that newly cleared cellar floor.

🥴