Guardian angel!

I forced myself to get out yesterday and take a walk.
I suppose I am staying in to punish myself for not following through with my plans to play guitar and sing again. I don't know.
Anyway, I took a drive wearing my workout shorts. These are the "gym" shorts that a man shouldn't wear for anything other than a workout. They just aren't equipped to handle a wallet, keys and the stuff you need to drive or go out in public.
It's not that they are indecent. They just are a little less "formal" than cargo shorts, or regular shorts.
I digress, as always.
I drove right past the trail because I realized I was wearing them and continued down the road. I came to Farmdale, and decided to head to another trail that was more challenging, and less used.
Drove right past that one too. I made a loop and headed back home.
I made it as far as the first trail, and turned in and parked.
They have a fire school next to the trail and there was a motorcycle training course going on, so there were lots of vehicles.
I could see many of the cars were there for bicycle riding too, because of all the racks on the cars.
There is a bench a few hundred feet in on the trail so I decided if I wasn't feeling just right, I would take a break there and turn around and head home.
I said hi to a beautiful dog, and his humans, and I moved over when I heard a bike behind me.
The guy on the bike said hi, and I recognized him as a fellow school bus driver. In fact, this guy was the one who talked me into switching to my present company.
He is a talker, but was interested in riding some more, so I wished him well.
Anyway, he rode to the end of the first break, turned around and came back to talk some more.
I ended up walking while he rode, and let him do much of the talking because I felt like I was being trained! He was gliding along on the bike, and I was walking at a very brisk pace. I kept up the pace all the way to the 1.5 mile mark, and decided to let him go.
One thing I realized about halfway down the trail was that I didn't have anything to drink with me, and I didn't have my glucose pills either because they didn't fit into the pockets of my gym shorts.
I was really afraid my blood sugar would drop while I was too far away from the car, so I turned around and started a much less strenuous pace back to the car.
My blood sugar did drop, I could feel it, but I was able to pace myself and things balanced out so that I was able to get back to the car and back home before things got too far out of hand.
I won't make that mistake again.
It felt good to get out, and I did play my guitar through about a dozen songs today. I was able to work out changes and chords on most of them. I couldn't do the one I really wanted to do because I was too tired and it has some complex chords. The nice thing, however, was that I was able to "hear" most of them, so I just might be able to do it the next time.
Anyway, I like the gym shorts for walking because they don't restrict my legs at all, and I can set a much faster pace without being as distracted. But, the next time I leave the house wearing them, I will make sure to take a kit with me.

A bit of a comical side note:
The glucose pills are huge and made of a chalky type material. I don't know if it's compressed powdered sugar or what. I don't take them unless I am exerting myself for a long time and feel the need for them, so they stay in the tube container, sometimes for weeks. As I walk, they bang around in the container, and even though they are held fairly tight, they tend to break down. So, when I open the container, I end up with powdered "sugar" all over me. It drives me crazy.
I went into the Weis today to do some food shopping and asked the pharmacist if he had any other type of glucose, such as the gel in the tubes, but he didn't.
Tomorrow, I will go out and do some shopping to see if I can find the tubes of gel. I hope they aren't expensive.
I am going to try and get out more too. It feels good.

All this from a 1000 square foot house!

I have a private blog that I write just to vent sometimes. I wrote this and decided to edit it and post it here. If you've ever wondered what it was like to live with a hoarder, here is a bit of that experience.
My wife was a clean person. She just couldn't get rid of anything.
I have gone on a reverse binge, and gotten rid of things instead of selling them at a yard sale. them just so I can get free of the pain of the loss. Anyway, here is the rant:

There always seemed to be more stuff.
I remember a time when I wasn't able to walk from the front of the basement to the back because there was so much stuff. I tried to stack everything neatly, but after awhile, it was just impossible.
Now I can.

It's exhilarating. It's horrible.

Now, I can go, all the way around the basement from left to right, front to back. I can go in a squared circle.

This project started 5 or 6 years ago. I had the help of my son. He helped me to carry large items up the stairs. We made dozens of trips. I got into the habit of bringing something up the stairs every time I was down there. I piled stuff up along the driveway on the grass. The driveway is about 35 feet long, and by the time I finished with the first load, I had a pile that ran from the garage to the street.
I made a deal with the trash guy to pick it all up in one trip. He came by and my son, the two trash guys, and I started filling up the truck. He ran his compactor every once in awhile to allow more stuff to be loaded.
When the pile was gone, the truck was filled. The trash guy told me he had to go to the dump just for my stuff.
The next week, he came back, and we did it again. My son and I had brought out another trash truck full of stuff.
Things from the basement, garage, and other parts of the house went to the trash truck. Twice!

I got a paper shredder. I started to go through the boxes of paper that we had collected and started to shred documents.
I ran the machine every night for two weeks, for about 45 minutes each night until the shredder overheated. Anything that had our name or any personal information on it got shredded.
I ran the machine until it finally quit running. I had to throw out the machine and buy a new one.
Before I could get a new one, however, they had a great shredding event in a parking lot nearby. This is where they brought in an industrial size machine mounted in a truck. Anyone was welcome to bring anything they wanted to be shredded for free.
I filled up 3 large boxes and a large trash bag with paper and took it to the event. I stood in line for about 20 minutes and they took it all and then it was gone!
This was all done about 5 years ago, as I've said. This past year, after my wife died, I found more paper and shredded for another two weeks. Since I started the great shredding project, documents from 1965 to the present were shredded. My wife had saved all of her old checks, and bank account records from the time she opened her first account!

I was able to empty out the garage enough to be able to paint it. Then, amazingly, it started to fill up again. I had tried to throw things out before, but my wife would find them at the curb, and they would be brought back up.
The basement started to fill again also.
There was a lot of stuff that my wife wouldn't let me throw out, but at least I had gotten the process started.

Last year, when I knew that my wife wasn't going to be coming home from the hospital, I started to go through everything in the house in order to fill up my time. It was a very emotional time for me, but I started to collect things and throw them away.
I also gave things away, and sold some things.
Every week, my goal was to fill 3/45 gallon bags and take them to the curb. Since there was no one at the house to object, and I knew that if I kept the stuff, I would have to carry it all with me, when and if I ever moved.
Since the bags are fairly large, I could fit all kinds of things in them. I had some heavy duty bags too that didn't tear easily, so I was able to put things in there that really shouldn't be going to the dump. It was easier for me to do that, than to load a truck and take it all at once.
I also considered renting a 40 foot long trash bin for a month, but that would have required me to work much harder than I thought I could.
3 bags a week allowed me to open boxes and look through them.

• I got to relive old memories. This was very cathartic.
• I was able to make sure I wasn't throwing out something that either I or my kids would want to keep.
• I was able to find lots of things that had just been thrown into a box that I could sort and repack. For example: I gathered all the photographs and repacked them into shoe boxes. They fit just fine and we could go through them when we wanted. I now have about 5 shoe boxes filled with old paper photos.
  

I found many things I didn't know I still had, but a lot of it still went into the trash. I got rid of things that I knew I would never need or want. I didn't save something just because I might need it some day.
I took my wife's clothing to Goodwill. I took 19 of those 45 gallon bags of clothing to Goodwill. I am still finding clothing even though I am almost finished.
So, all totaled, I have bought and used almost 3 boxes of trash bags. Each box had 150 bags in it.
This isn't including the regular trash such as food containers, that I take to the curb every week.

This past week, I started working on the shelves in the basement. I took a box down, put it onto a 6 foot table I have, and then I would go through the box. When I finished, I would break down the box and put it onto a pile.
I now have 12 more bags of trash to go to the curb. I also have 4 large boxes filled with broken down boxes. Imagine a box that the 46" HDTV came in filled with boxes. Times 4!

Once I get all the big stuff upstairs I will be able to start cleaning. There is lots of dust, dirt, and who knows what. I'll attack the whole basement with a vacuum cleaner after I hit it with the broom. Then, I'll probably wash down the walls and floors with bleach or disinfectant and water. That should help clear the air a bit. Years of cats, dogs, moldy boxes, and humans have taken their toll.

This whole experience was something I needed to do myself. I have very strong emotions running through my soul right now. I can feel the ghost of my wife glaring at me, telling me I'll be going to Hell for getting rid of all her stuff.

Everyone who loses a loved one, or goes through a traumatic experience, does something different. My way of dealing with it all is to get rid of it so I can clear my mind.
A clean basement means a clear mind. The place will never be spotless. The work will never be finished. There is always something else that needs to be done here. Even if I were to win the lottery tomorrow, I couldn't pay workers enough to do all that needs to be done here.
That's a strange feeling. Obsessive hand washing syndrome? Sort of. But, I won't feel like this much longer.
Donna will always be in my heart. I will never forget her, or the experiences we had together. I don't need pictures or stuff to remind me of those experiences.
I am ready to move on.