Empty-ish Nest

Our two oldest kids have moved out. Mea is in college, of course, and W has moved in with my step-daughter and her husband. Both, however, have left substantial amounts of stuff behind. Mea's room is slated to eventually become our guest room, or perhaps we'll open it back up to be part of the great room. W's room is going to be a craft room, and possibly also a guest room, if needed.

Between now and then, though, is the cleaning. I have picked up (so far) three white trashbags full of trash. AND eleven hamper-fulls of clothing and bedding. I've washed clothes and washed clothes since Thursday.

I've swept broken glass, granola bar wrappers, icing containers, chocolate chip bags, dirt, and bugs. I've picked up change, tools, pieces of sewing machines that he was fixing, pens and pencils (although I've thrown a lot of those away, too), a clip, a scope, Pokeman cards, books & lanyards.  I've thrown away magazines, notebook paper, handouts from school, a Victoria's Secret catalog, study materials for FBLA contests, receipts and more.

At this point, I am tempted just to back up the truck to the window and throw everything out and start over. I know that would be dumb. There is a nice dresser in there, some nice shelves, and several of my books.

W got upset when he realized today that I was really cleaning out his room. He thinks I should clean his sister's room first, since she moved out first. And I'll grant that Mea's room is a mess. If we were to have company, I would have do so some serious cleaning for them to sleep there. But she has come and worked on it some. And, perhaps most importantly, it does not *stink.* There is nothing that smells quite as bad as a teenage boy in the best of circumstances, and this is not the best of circumstances. He still had dirty clothes from his FBLA trip in early July. And there was food in a cooler in his room TODAY from that trip.

He also broke his bed. It was made from 2x6s.

When he first moved out, we were looking at it as more of a trial separation. At this point, I am not sure if any of us could handle if he moved back in. That breaks my heart. It does. But I am not sure how I ever dealt with the amount of stress that he causes. I am not sure that I could go back to living under that much stress. I am certainly not sure that I should be subjecting Miss O to that.

I suppose I should go check on the laundry. It is kind of unending at this point.