3. AN OLD LADY'S THOUGHTS

After making myself lunch, I catalogue the rest of the spoons into three different batches. I divided them into silver spoons, golden spoons and spoons with gems. I took pictures and numbered each spoon. I packed them in boxes and labelled the boxes. As soon as the five-spoon shipment is handled with success I will send these.

I also cleared the table of the recipe books. I checked the internet for their worth. There were only three books that seemed worth a lot. The others were just old and nice to have. I created an account on an online selling site and listed the books on it. The three books that was worth more I listed on the antique site I found.

Having cleared the table in the kitchen, I feel accomplished and happy with the cleared table. I wipe the table and chairs. I make myself a cup of coffee and open the door to let the fresh air in. There is a gentle breeze that sweeps into the kitchen. The birds are singing in the trees close to the house and the sun is shining brightly outside. If I stand with my back to the rest of the kitchen and I only have the small table with my cup of coffee on it and the open door in my view, it looks like the perfect peaceful setting for someone who does not want to be connected to the outside world.

I hear a ping on my phone and walk to the study to collect my phone. I bring it back to the kitchen and make myself comfortable at the small table. I read through the messages while drinking my coffee. I feel absolutely content.

The messages on my phone are all replies for the items posted on the antique site. Two women are bidding on the one recipe book. Apparently, it is even harder to come by than I initially realised when searching the internet for its worth. I will let them bid it out. A few of the other books on the other site also gained a bit of attention. I am really surprised at how quickly these items gained interest.

After finishing my coffee, I rinse my cup in the sink and make my way upstairs to the bathroom.

The bathroom is clutter free. I was initially surprised to see this but then I noticed the water stains on the lower walls and gathered that there was a leak here at some point and it was not safe to leave the treasures in the bathroom. Whatever the reason may be, I am grateful for the clutter free space in the house.

I run myself a hot bath. The taps are a bit tight to open. The pipes make a creaking sound as the water starts rushing through them towards the open taps. This is a very old creaky house. Everything has their own sounds and complaints.

I tie my hair up in a messy bun on top of my head and walk to my bag that I left in front of the front door when I got here. I bring it upstairs to the bathroom and take out my towel and toiletries. The water is hot and inviting when I get into it. I lay back and soak in the comforting heat of the water as I close my eyes. I can hear the soft pinging on my phone at the small table in the kitchen.

I find this experience oddly exciting. Selling someone else's clutter to clear the house. I smile at the thought of walking into a treasure chest.

After taking a long relaxing bath, I get out and get dressed in the most comfortable clothes I have. One of the main upsides of being a recluse is that it doesn't really matter what you wear. Nobody, except the courier guy, would ever see me anyway.

I walk back to the kitchen to check on the messages on the phone. As I walk to pick up the phone a man appears outside of the open doorway leading out of the kitchen.

"Good day" He sounds like he should be in his twenties. His clothes are old and shows signs of hard work. He is holding a wide brim hat against his chest as he greets me. At first, I am a bit startled to see someone and I am not sure how to react.

"Good afternoon." My voice sounds unsure and a little scared.

"My name is Frank. I am your neighbour." He points to his right with his hat and smiles a big bright smile as he introduces himself. "I use to run errands for Old Mrs Grindle. If you need anything, I am just a stone throw this side." Frank looks like a very honest and pleasant person. This is one of the reasons I like being as far away from the city as possible. The further you are from the city the friendlier the people become. I may not like leaving my house but to know someone isn't all that far away does make me feel less like I am in the middle of nowhere.

"I am Lubelle. Thank you, Frank, I will remember that." It is strange saying my new name out loud.

Frank nods and puts his hat back on his head. He smiles broadly and gives a small wave with his right hand before he turns and walks away.

Thank heavens Frank is not the chatty type. I do not think I could stand a long conversation with a stranger today. I take a seat at the table and check the messages on the phone. There are different messages for every single item I listed

I also have an email from the courier company stating they will be around today to pick up the parcel. I look at my wrist watch and see that it is just past three o'clock. In a normal work day people would not usually work after five. That would give it about two hours that is left of the work day for the courier to pick up the parcels. This is pure speculation of course. I am not from around here and it is quite possible that people around here do not check their watches to knock off exactly at five.

I spend some more time cleaning the kitchen when I hear a vehicle at the other side of the house. I walk the maze to the front door, parcel in hand, and open it when I see the courier company's van as expected. The man is friendly. He gives me a paper to sign. Takes the parcel from me, places a large sticker on the box and proceeds to put the box in the back of his van. He gives me a friendly nod when he gets into his van and drives off.

That was quick. Charlie said the courier company knew where the house was. I wonder if the old lady used the company while collecting all these things. It is not strange for hoarders to be recluses also.

I close the front door and make my way to the kitchen. I lock the kitchen door also. In the study I make myself comfortable at the desk and check the messages on the computer. Every single book I listed has been sold. I open my email and find all the proof of payments for the purchases and the courier fees. I collect the books from the floor and start to process the orders. I book the courier company again with all the different items going out to different people. I smile at the thought of the poor man having to come back tomorrow again.

I list every item I send out on a spreadsheet. It would be really interesting to see what everything amounts to in the end.

When the stacks of books are wrapped and marked, I carry them to the front door and stack them neatly next to the door. This was indeed a productive day.

I collect the phone from the study and walk up to the second floor. As I climb the stairs, I remember there is another desk in one of the bedrooms. I walk to the room with the desk. The one corner of the room is filled with boxes with rolls of paper standing in them. They look like large maps. The other side of the room has plastic containers stacked high in rows.

The table in the other corner is mostly occupied with leather bound journals. The first journal I pick up is marked fifteen years ago. I feel guilty when I open the journal to read what is inside. Journals are usually very personal. The writing inside is very small and neatly written.

It doesn't take me very long to realise that the journals are written by a woman. She talks about her visits to other countries. There is an oddness to the journals. Even though the journal is marked fifteen years ago, the things she is describing on her trips to other countries seem a lot older.

At one point she describes a place she visited that I know for a fact burnt down twenty years ago.