Attack on The Attic

I made a fairly successful incursion into the attic today. I'm far from done, but I made a nice dent. As I usually do once I finally get rolling, I hit it running. I used some rope and was flinging boxes and other items down from the attic like so many commandos on a mission. Mama helped me, taking the stuff off of the rope and sorting it into piles up and down the hallway.

When I finally reached a point where I was about to pass out from the heat and dehydration, I came down for a break. Right now the plan is to get this stuff squared away into appropriate piles and then bring down the next batch of stuff. The system is working. What I brought down came down rather quickly. So this isn't going to be the nightmare I've been expecting. Well, except for the sorting part. Luckily a lot of this stuff is already in boxes.

Progress is being made. I'm still a long way out, and I'm doubting I can wrap this up by this weekend and get all this stuff into storage before going back to work Monday. But I can only try. However much I might want to kick my own ass for fucking off so much the past few weeks, bitching about what I should have done doesn't help me here today. Although I'm still working on a way to go back in time (and I've pretty convinced it has something to do with getting the right combination of peanut butter and jelly), thus far I've found no way to pull that off and am still obligated to deal with today and, theoretically, tomorrow.

Okay. I sound like I've lost my mind. I hope I haven't had a heat-stroke.