It's cold on the back porch this morning. I'm sitting here in my fuzzy housecoat, deliberating about what I'm going to do today.
Yesterday I met with some of the clerks and gleaned a little more information about how much they would send to an archive if/when we do one. I am a bit overwhelmed.
Overwhelmed.
Understatement.
Having at least laid eyes on all of the dark hidey-holes where records are stored, I figured that my next step ought to be to inventory what will likely go to the archive. I spent most of Tuesday in a storage room full - and I mean FULL - of 4-drawer file cabinets and bankers' boxes. I meticulously documented everything that I could get to. (Some stuff was over my head. Even if there had been room to set up a ladder (there wasn't - some of that stuff must have been stored before the room filled up), my ass is too old and clumsy to be climbing ladders.) The next day, I learned that most everything I inventoried needs to go to the garbage. I suppose the inventory may still be useful to someone at some point, and the experience was useful, for it helped me realize that I can't physically do this alone.
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