My basement has been a default repository since we moved in more than forty years ago. When we shopped for a home, we only looked at houses with full basements. Ours has one, with about two thirds floor space and one third crawl space. I inherited a workbench left for me by the previous owners. Metal shelving I installed myself. It did not take long fill them. The owner also left for me a partitioned room. It had a cheap red carpet remnant, attractive wood paneling, a wall outlet, and a switch. Despite its potential, primarily as a home office, I never used it. Instead, the shelving vertically, the floors horizontally, and the cinder block portion of our crawl space became flat surfaces to put things.
Returning to the basement as one of this half-year's semi-annual initiatives has brought a new perspective. My shelves have decent stuff. Passover dishes, pieces for entertaining that we never did in a serious way, explorations into hobbies that never took off. Many things worth having. We also had two children. They have a way of developing in stages to adulthood. Along the way, they outgrow infant cribs, car seats, clothing, and gadgets that allow them to sit at our level at the kitchen table. Safety standards grow in parallel with their growth, so many of these items, which largely line part of the basement walls, can no longer be accepted as charitable donations.
Children produce things. At school, they create art, write compositions, and generate reports from teachers. These have mostly found their way into paper grocery bags, which line the crawl space ledge and that very enticing room with the fire-engine red carpet remnant.
We upgraded our house periodically. A lovely crystal chandelier gleams as we eat Shabbos dinner in the dining room. Its predecessor found a place on shelves under the basement stairs. I painted walls and trim in my younger life. Those paint cans contain hazardous waste. There are a lot of them. We bought new carpeting and wallpaper. Unused portions sit in the basement. My wife and I upgraded our mattress. The unused one takes up a huge amount of space in that paneled nook.
My wife, children, and I all attended universities for college and advanced degrees. We bought books. We took notes. We lived in apartments. All leftovers fill our basement.
My wife retired after a 32-year corporate career. Boxes of her work fill the basement.
A month into the semi-annual period, I have begun sorting. I think the best bang for effort would be to take that pre-existing room and create a pleasant nook for my wife, or at least her things and her memories. To do this, I would need to stand the mattress upright, having already succeeded with the box spring. Then I need a large plastic bag and a carton of significant size, maybe one used to hold k-cups. I need a lamp to plug into the outlet, my cell phone camera, and a marker. Children's work photographed randomly, papers recycled in the box, discards in the black plastic garbage bag. Stuff that does not stay there, like any exercycle or my daughter's starter bicycle, get relocated to the larger basement floor for ultimate donation or landfill, perhaps even a yard sale. Clothing washed and donated if still wearable. Mattresses hauled away by a clean out company. Wash it all down. Replace the carpeting, either broadloom, tile, or area rug with underbase. Then move the boxes with my wife's stuff around the perimeter, or buy additional shelving for the perimeter. Add a desk and a chair. Add lighting.
My effort. Her space. Would make a Mother's Day surprise, hopefully a welcome one. It is within my capacity.
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