I was helping a friend of mine clean out his dad’s house, and I offered to store a few boxes of things for him in my basement. The last two friends whose stuff I stored had cleaned out their stashes, so I thought I could make room for more. I ended up taking five boxes and two old-style stereo speakers (the kind that look like end tables).
I did manage to carry all of it down to the basement with my son propping the back door for me, but in doing so I realized that in order to start my first seeds (leeks, onions, parsley) in approximately two weeks, I’m really going to need to clean that place up.
Right now I can barely even get to my light shelf with all the flats and coiled-up hoses and bales of peat and perlite and vermiculite and buckets of sand and other random empty harvest buckets. Spider webs run riot down there; sand is all over the patch of carpet from transferring it into smaller containers to bring upstairs and scatter on the icy sidewalks.
That dessicated baby garter snake in the laundry room? Yup–still there. I’d thought sometime over the winter I might even hire someone to come help me with the dusty, dead-bug-riddled, cobwebby nightmare. I thought I’d once again pull everything out from under the stairs, whose open backs allow dust and dirt coming in the back door to rain down on the tubs of old toys and clothes and flats and pots and who knows what else.
It’s still winter, but I’m starting to think that paying someone to go down there and see what I have created (to be fair, the spiders helped) is a little much. I’ve got a dust mask around here somewhere and a dust mop and a bandana for my head.
I had thought hiring someone would kick my procrastinating butt into gear, but for me there’s no better incentive than having a tidy space working space in which to start those first seeds of the year.