I am in the midst of decluttering the house. When I started several weeks ago, I carefully sorted the clutter:
Things in this pile (too-small clothes, questionable knickknacks) go to the thrift store.
Things in that pile (all the books that, let’s be honest, I’m never going to read) go to the library.
The rest of the stuff (why did somebody keep a broken umbrella?) goes in the trash.
But I have grown weary.
Now I’m just hiding everything in the attic.
I’ve never really spent much time in our attic. We’re usually only up there once a year, to pull down the Christmas decorations.
There are … things … in my attic.
Back in the shadows lurked a naked ceiling fan that had been stripped of its blades.
Hiding in a corner was a whole box of National Geographic magazines — which did not even belong to us!!
A box marked “Quilt Tops” contained remnants of fabric, pieced together by the hands of a long-dead grandmother.
Another box was filled with linen scraps that I was saving for … huh. That’s funny. I’m suddenly having trouble remembering what I was saving them for.
A large plastic tub was filled with keepsake children’s clothes, including a number of matching Christmas outfits that had been … oh, the horror … smocked.
Three creaky broken chairs.
A box of picture frames, all empty and forlorn.
There was a lamp without a lampshade, and a lampshade without a lamp.
There was a very large box of games — oooo, Yahtzee! Battleship! This box needs to come downstairs right away.
Perhaps the most horrifying thing I found was a box containing a 2,500-piece Lego building set that my daughter had put together several years ago. The horrifying thing about it was that at some point the box had been dropped on the floor.
There was a piece of vintage office furniture I picked up a thrift store, back when I was going through a metal phase. I also salvaged a metal tank desk and eight Steelcase office chairs, which I intended to repaint and recover and use as dining chairs.
I never got around to that project, either.
The metal office chairs are not in the attic, however.
They’re down in the basement.
The far side of the attic was filled with things that belonged to my teen-aged son:
An old music stand.
Jagged pieces of metal that look like they once belonged to a drum kit.
Several Nerf guns.
Six bins of Legos.
A bow and arrows.
An ACT prep book.
I’m not the only one who’s been hiding things in the attic.
Lisa Davis is Features Editor of The Anniston Star. Contact her at 256-235-3555 or firstname.lastname@example.org.