The importance of objects

It's been another busy month for me. I've been trying to get all sorts of listings done and expand my selection in different ways.

I've almost gotten to the point where I can relax. Just two more large sets of listings and I could take a small break.

Only the universe has other plans, apparently. Yesterday I received a phone call that I did not expect; something that might mean restructuring my entire eBay store.

Later that day, I ran downstairs to look for a bag, and I found a leaking pipe instead.

It could have been much, much worse. It hadn't been going on long, and the damage was limited to a small area. Sadly, it was a small but vital area, where I had artwork and mementos stored along with my jewelry boxes. I moved things last night and called the plumber, and then went and ran a necessary errand, trying to keep a brave face.

Today the plumber arrived, and the news was very good. The repair was swift and easy, and it's all done. So tonight I braved the mess again, wanting to organize things.

Each new ruined thing was a wave of sadness; each salvageable thing a small victory. I found that more was ruined than I had originally thought; I found things which somehow were protected by a lucky coincidence like a plastic bag inside a box. Posters and artwork and beautiful paintings by my great-uncle were destroyed; photographs from my late grandmother's house were miraculously preserved, having perched on top of a ruined album that took the brunt of the water. The strange twists of fate were illuminated as I opened each box.

Now it's just a matter of drying out the ruined jewelry boxes and paper. I think most of it can be recycled, at the very least. I am borrowing an industrial dehumidifier from my sister, who has weathered several floods. We'll wrestle it into place tonight and hope for the best. It could have been so much worse and I take comfort in that.

I'm just trying to look out on the pond today and feel peace.