I’ve talked before about my difficulty asking for help. It’s a problem many people have as they age, or as disease takes a toll on their body and their abilities. I’m stubborn and have not given in easily to my limitations.
For a month now I have been cleaning out cupboards and getting rid of what is no longer needed. I have my new cabinet with the four shelves and it is so much easier to see what I have, clothes wise, that might otherwise have been forgotten in a bottom drawer (bad back, remember).
I’ve used up and thinned out my craft supplies, and this week went through my button box. Box is a misnomer, it’s actually one of those things with many drawers, for the tool shop, for nails and screws and such. I had my button collection in the thirty small drawers, which made it heavy. Every time I picked it up out of the closet I was afraid it would drop or spill it and have my hundreds of sorted buttons all over the place.
Last trip to the dollar store I picked up a little tool container, much like a fishing tackle box and brought it home. Okay, brought them home as I bought two. I spent that evening filling them with buttons and managed to clear out half of the thirty drawers. So, now I need two more.
I feel no guilt about buying these containers, and getting rid of the larger, more cumbersome storage thing. At this stage in my life, it’s all about what makes it easier for me. And looking at one of four, lighter, and closed containers, takes away the stress of lifting and spilling the other.
While I was in this frame of mind, I rearranged the bookcase, well, two shelves of it. I moved my printer up to eye level, where the shelf was higher and I could add paper without the struggle it has been thus far.
I also moved my wooden file holder up a level, so it was more accessible. Why, I wonder, have I not done this before?
It’s like the plastic food containers. They were on the bottom shelf of the cupboard, and with my back it was difficult to bend, and find the matching top and bottom. Now I keep a small collection in a colored bin on the top of the fridge, and I keep it organized as it’s handy.
I use the cane in public, the walker for distances and for some shopping. At home I walk unaided, as long as I have walls, furniture and doorways to lean on. I know, one of these days my disease will progress to where I need the cane or walker all the time. And when that time comes, I hope I’ll be smart enough to make the other changes that will be necessary to make life less of a struggle.