Day 1 of Operation Clean Up is nearly over. I've succeeded in picking up all my music every last sheet of it off the Spinet, the floor and the catchall bench. Now all that music every last sheet of it is on my bed, bedroom floor and shelves. But it's in piles. Semi neat, hopeful piles, which must mean something. Mostly it means I didn't get any farther than that because I got so distracted and entranced wandering through old old songs and solos with beautifully faded color covers and sheets with tattered edges that could almost crumble in my hands. Bach Rubinstein Brahms, folk songs and pop songs and classical and sacred and every three minutes I was running out to the piano with a new one that I couldn't hear completely in my head.
Most of my music came from my Gran who got it from her libraries and bookstores and her widow's oil jar of a basement and always brought it in stacks for me when she came to visit. And it ended up on the Spinet, the floor and the catchall bench.
Seeing it every day, the inundation of having all this music has been driving me crazy for years now and I realized a long protracted time ago that I and my inherited ataxophobia must at least try to have order in my world if I would have order in my mind. those piles on my floor are beautiful. Tomorrow is beautiful too, day 2, combining, binding, perusing. So far I'm feeling rather good about all this.