The look on this little guy’s face says it all.

As we move forward in getting our house in order, I realize how backwards we have done some things.

Allow me to explain…..

When we moved in, we had the movers pile most of the boxes into the rooms on the bottom floor. We knew the majority of them belonged downstairs and to be honest, I was unorganized when I packed them originally, leaving it nearly impossible to tell the contents of any given box. The exception being the many, many, many boxes labeled “books” and the equally numerous boxes labeled “kitchen.”

The rest of the boxes are a hodgepodge and a “mystery” many having originated from my parent’s house after they passed away; the contents a jumble of clothing, pictures and childhood memorabilia all in need of sorting, saving, sending or discarding.

As we progress from project to project, (and we have projects in various stages of completion in every single room) the boxes get shuffled from room to room, level to level to allow us space to rip out carpet, paint and sand.

As we have worked on the lower level, more and more boxes (many at my direction) have made their way upstairs just to get them “out of the way.” This week my husband is on furlough and we decided to rent an industrial sander in order to finally finish refinishing the upstairs floors.

And guess what?

The boxes that were moved up there to be “out of the way” are now, once again very much “in the way.”

So while Steve wraps the rooms in plastic sheeting to try to keep the dust to a minimum, I am becoming Sisyphus, creating my own mythology, gathering up stray items I foolishly unpacked in an effort to “get organized” and once again randomly placing them in boxes to be moved from room to room.

My own circle in the Inferno.

This little guy can not believe that he is being boxed back up just when he thought he was free.

I try to avoid his stare as I close the box, move it to the attic, hope it does not roll back on me, and quickly shut the door.