Mice in the Basement

Cleaned the basement last weekend.

I say that casually, but in reality, this was as massive a task as excavating King Tut's tomb, if King Tut's tomb were crammed with broken electronics, Styrofoam-filled boxes from defunct appliances, and the old window sashes that we replaced eight years ago but somehow couldn't bear to part with.

We discovered a few treasures, including some ancient mice:

 

Guess which one was mine.

I had that mouse in college, and I used it for writing a lot of plays, too much angsty poetry, and various papers on the awesomeness of Jane Austen.

Also in our cleaning spree, we discovered a Clapper.

No idea why or when such a device came into our lives, but I am contemplating hooking it up to a different appliance every day.  Just to keep things interesting.

Cleaning out the basement was surprisingly empowering.  After we finished, I felt like anything was possible.  I am hoping to hold onto that feeling as I start my next writing project.

Actually, writing a book has a lot in common with cleaning a basement.  It feels like an intimidatingly huge task when you start, but if you take it box by box, you (hopefully) discover some treasures hidden within the trash that are worth saving.  You know, like a unicorn mouse and a Clapper.  Because every story needs a unicorn mouse and a Clapper.