I met with my new bookkeeper today and I think I might be a tiny bit in love with her. Anyone who can accept a box full of receipts and a 210 page PDF report from my Quicken and say, “No problem. We’ll get this sorted out,” has the key to my heart.
Do you think she does basements?
My father was inspired by my project and took it upon himself to go through decades of vintage Ducati collectibles and motorcycles, teaching materials and memorabilia that he had been storing in his basement. It was a task of herculean proportions, especially since the motorcycle stuff is quite collectible and valuable.
My dad during the time trials at the Bonneville Salt Flats back in the 80s. He won in the 1982 Top 130 Class by clocking 140.06 mph. You can read all about it here.
This is his Ducati 900SS, 1976, modified to emulate Cook Neilson’s “Old Blue.”
I gave him two great pieces of advice. 1) See if you can donate your motorcycle stuff to a museum (Barber Motorsports in Alabama took his entire collection and sent movers to come get it) and 2) Hire a professional organizer.
He was all, How do I find one? and I was like, Google it! and who should show up but someone he knew.
Fast forward two months and he’s done. Like done, done. They powered through his basement and he has gotten rid of everything he doesn’t want and has organized the stuff that he does. I had a little eargasm just hearing about it.
As a token of his appreciation he offered to pay his organizer to come to Boulder and help me out for a week and I was like, “Yes! Yes! A thousand times yes!” but Lonny was like, “No. Hell to the no.”
And I get why, he’s not ready to devote a week of his life to
making his wife happy dealing with his collections because it does ultimately mean more work for him. But does it? In the long run? I don’t know. I’m hitting a brick wall.
It is gratifying to hear the relief in my father’s voice when he talks about what it’s like to walk in his basement and not feel sickened by the crushing task ahead of him. It is also disheartening to know how much I’ve gotten rid of yet what little difference it has made. I was hoping that by now my house would feel shiny and new rather than a black-hole of yet-to-be expended effort.
It’s not all bad, though. I’m different now, I don’t collect stuff and I hardly buy anything anymore. I feel very unattached to little things and I don’t look to consumerism to fill a void, but I wish I could have the post-purge glow that my father has.
I want a version of my bookkeeper who can look at the piles and say, “Yes, I can help and when I’m done it will all make sense and be easy,” without doing what Lonny fears which is hauling it all out to the curb. Lots of it deserves the circular file but many things don’t and I just don’t know where to start and how to do it without his cooperation and enthusiasm.
And so goes the ballad of the married couple. It’s a sorry, old song.
Time to cut the crap.