Archaeological Dig

I've been redoing my office for...hmmmm...only about five years now!  Finally, I'm getting somewhere.  How did I budge?  I  set a deadline!  Ah, the simple deadline, the ideal tool for procrastinators and/or perfectionists.  June 18th it is.


The carpet comes up first (eleven filthy years of it), then down goes the imitation  Pergo.  I am at the 'move everything out of the room' phase.  That includes, but is not limited to, three long craft tables, four bookcases, computer, scanner, printer, two tv's, a closet full of supplies and boxes, and my dog.  The entire room is getting 'unearthed.'  As my caregivers lug and lift, they hand me shabby boxes cuddled under dust blankets.  They have two stern words for me:  sort, shred.  The 'slave' is always the master, yes?  


My friend, Diana, asks me if the word 'pitchfork' means anything to me.  'Crane' might be a more suitable vocabulary word of the day. 


This is no simple task.  It's an archaeological dig!  I am finding fragments of my life, some torn, some amusing, some lonely, some broken, some intact; most of them forgotten.  


It stirs up emotional dust.