Getting There In My Own Aspergerish Way

Margaret Jean and her niece, Baritta Cotton.

Margaret Jean and her niece, Baritta Cotton.

4:19 a.m.   I finally have a desk and chair in my den.  No lights, but this is an improvement.  For more than two weeks, my computer sat on a coffee table while I operated it from my perch on a needlepoint footstool.

More than a week passed before I found the right kitchen table.  Delivery and assembly was another wait.  I learned that one week of three meals a day in bed does not make one feel spoiled.  Especially annoying?  Toast crumbs.  For someone who cannot stand the irritation of tags in her clothes, toast crumbs in bed were the equivalent of having my sheets strewn with gravel.

We lived two years in a furnished house and rather than pay storage for two years, we got rid of everything except my bookcases and our bed.  Now the refurbishing begins.

Craig’s list is helpful.  If nothing else, it gives me a good idea of what people are getting rid of and what value it has on the open market.  I’ve also figured out that most of the items listed under ‘free stuff’?  Really just need someone to take them to the dump.

There are still boxes in every room that need emptying.  But I have nothing to empty them into–no cupboard or closet or shelves.  So I am still shopping.  We also have no sofa, just one chaise.  This creates a sense of incompletion, of uncertainty that makes me anxious.  But it’s getting better.  Disorganization is unbearable, but I’m slowly pulling everything together.

Now, if I could only sleep through the night!

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