Perhaps things are coming to a head
Him "Where's my stuff? Where is it?"
Me "Hmmm. Exactly what stuff do you mean? What do you mean by "it"? We were cleaning in here for hours."
Him "Where's that soccer box with my stuff in it? I had my good pen and some meds in there. Where is it?"
Me "I cleaned out the paper and put it in a smaller box. I didnt see the pen."
Him "Where did you put it? You threw away my pen that my brother gave me, didnt you? You threw everything away. Where's my stuff? Where is it?"
At one point, he was actually pounding the table demanding his pen.
Ended up it was in a box he had left on the shelf where I had not yet cleaned. But he really let me have it about how the "office" is now a "library" and how its not his room. I told him years ago when we bought the shelves that this room was going to be a library since we have so many books.
He has a strange habit of putting things into available boxes or bags and just stacking them places. I actually found things from 1995 in his bags. Stuff that no one needs to save. But somehow he envisioned this as a room where he could just stack his stuff. I set up a table and chair for him and there is a phone line, etc. His books and papers are stored there. But he basically wants the entire room for his own personal use. Whatever that would be.
To give me credit, I went through everything page by page or piece by piece (depending on what it was) before tossing it.
