Okay, so let me tell you about this whole “3rd floor jewels” thing. It wasn’t like I found actual diamonds or anything, you know?
It all started a few weeks back. The house felt too cramped, noise everywhere. Couldn’t get a single thought straight downstairs. I remembered the attic space, the third floor, mostly just full of junk we hadn’t sorted through since moving in years ago. Decided I’d try and clear a corner up there, make a small quiet spot for myself.
So, I went up there. Man, it was dusty. Started shifting boxes, old suitcases, bags of stuff we probably should’ve thrown out ages ago. Just basic grunt work, really. Moved this, piled that, swept a bit. Didn’t have a grand plan, just wanted some floor space.
The Actual Digging Part
Underneath a pile of old blankets and some forgotten painting supplies, I found this old wooden chest. Wasn’t locked. I lifted the lid, more dust, but inside… well, not gold. It was filled with old notebooks. Like, dozens of them. My old notebooks from way back, maybe college, maybe even earlier.
I almost just closed it and shoved it aside. Who wants to read their own rambling from decades ago, right? But I picked one up. Flipped through it.
- Sketches of project ideas I totally forgot about.
- Notes on problems I was trying to solve back then.
- Random thoughts, observations, bits of code snippets for things I never finished.
And here’s the thing. Some of those unfinished ideas? Those little problems I was stuck on? They were weirdly relevant to stuff I’m wrestling with right now in my current projects. It was like finding a map made by a younger, maybe more optimistic version of myself.
Why I Call Them “Jewels”
Because finding them felt like striking gold, honestly. Not because they’re worth money, but because they were packed with raw ideas and perspectives I’d lost. It’s easy to get stuck in a rut, think you know everything, or that the way you do things now is the only way. Seeing those old thoughts, scribbled down without any pressure, it was… refreshing. Like a shortcut back to a different way of thinking.
I spent the rest of the afternoon just sitting on the dusty floor up there, flipping through those notebooks. Didn’t even finish clearing that corner like I planned. Instead, I brought the whole chest downstairs.
So yeah, the third floor gave me back something I didn’t know I’d lost. Not treasure you can sell, but little gems of thought, buried under years of dust and life. That’s my “3rd floor jewels” story. Still haven’t entirely finished cleaning up there, though.
