Taking Inventory

I used to work in retail. I'm used to taking inventory.

We're still digging out. We've yet to tackle the basement but the dungeon has been restored to a lovely guest room. It's bright and airy. It's private.

I am picking up my niece at the airport in a few hours. (Technically, she's a second cousin of the husband's but since her mother is an honorary sister, I like to think of her as my niece.) I want her to be comfortable so I'm doing the usual, last minute prep stuff. I hope she doesn't mind the handicap bars all over the bathroom. At least in the shower, they give you something to hang onto while shaving your legs. There's still a handicap toilet in the water closet. (They're taller than the norm.)

The back yard is lush and green. I was going to clean off the patio until it started raining. As I looked around, I realized how many things the husband has purchased for the comfort of the oldies. The gigantic heater, cushions, etc.

Some purchases were good. The bed we purchased is great. And, the guest room is much cozier with the fireplace.

Others were ridiculous. I ventured downstairs to find a file and I was faced with wheelchairs and every conceivable walker invented. Some are easily portable. Others are more convoluted but they have a seat. We have two temporary closets completely filled. We have more luggage than any world traveler could ever use. We have lots of canes.

I've thought about having a garage sale, although my neighborhood frowns on that. Instead of calling it a garage sale, I might call it an oldies sale.