I'm bewildered and a little ashamed.

How much do I need?

First Bag & Bin

This is not my own idea. I culled it from one of the many books or websites on managing clutter. The process is this: You take a basket/bin/whatever and a garbage bag and, starting at one end of the house, you collect all the garbage in each room and anything in that room that does not belong there. As you go from room to room, you drop things off where they belong and collect those things which are misplaced. In theory, when you have completed the circuit, everything should be where it belongs and all garbage disposed of.

I would like to say this has solved everything. However, most of my apartment is so disordered that I was only able to do one room before the (large) bin was full. I think the important thing to remember when next I see that bin is that I am free to throw out anything in there. I do not have to find a place for each and every thing in that bin. Or rather, the place for some of those things is the garbage.

Someday I want to be able to bag & bin the whole apartment in an hour. Probably the easiest way to get to that point is to throw out a great deal more.

Why do I have so much stuff?

Yes, I have not been keeping up.

I'm sorry for the delay in posts but you know how it is when you have a new guy in your life -- they pretty much take over. He's such a sweetie, though, I can't fault him for it. He's handsome, strong and playful. And he has a beautiful speaking voice. As much as I adore him, though, I'm starting to think he needs someone who can do more for him: give him his space, spend a lot more time adoring and be better about cleaning his litter box.

Anyone want a cat?

This isn't me.

It isn't this bad.

Just in case anyone who doesn't know me reads this blog, I want to clarify that I am not a hoarder. I may talk about my emotional and mental reaction to clutter and getting rid of things but I'm just a person whose life has caught up with her a bit. No psychological problems here*, folks. Move along, now.

*well. None around hoarding, anyway.

Down to the wire.

This week-end I went to Cheryl’s to make fairy houses (don’t ask). As they are meant to be whimsical little things, I took the usual accoutrements; beads, buttons, wire. I rather got into the project and found myself using much of my bronze colored wire. As I watched the wire roll off the spool I felt a twinge of anxiety. When this was all over, I’d be out of bronze wire. I’d have no more wire. It’d be gone. Done. Empty. Lost.

Okay, it wasn’t that dramatic but there was still that thought: If I use this up, I won’t have it anymore. Right at the heels of that thought though, was another one: “Is this how I want to have this wire? Spooled up and unused? Wire in potentiality?” I was enjoying myself building my house. I liked how it was turning out and I was enjoying the day with Cheryl. Wasn’t that more valuable than a spool of wire? If I felt lost as I used up the wire, didn’t I feel still more content sitting in Cheryl’s yard creating something? What kind of abundance do I want in my life: potential or actual? Do I want more ideas and inspiration? Or do I want to make things?

I’ve always considered myself a generous person. At least, I didn’t think of myself as stingy. But now I’m wondering if I just wasn’t looking in the right place – perhaps I am a miser. A sort of craft dragon, sitting on a pile of paper, ribbons, buttons, and wire, endlessly acquiring and hoarding.

If I am, I no longer wish to be. There’s nothing to gain by contemplating my things. Quite the opposite: there’s loss of experience, the joy of creation and, worse still, holding onto things drags on me, mentally and emotionally to the point where I’m not standing still, I’m falling back.

Something useful v. something in use.

Chalkboard paint. The stuff isn’t cheap. I still had almost half a can left and I knew I could use it at some point.

There's the catch: "at some point." At some point I would find a purpose for the paint again. At some point I would put it to use. At some point I will be buried under all the stuff I've accumulated.

No. Enough.

The paint has gone to a garden club associate. She was planning on buying some for the project she’s almost finished with. While I had the tiniest pang of separation anxiety when I offered it, when I handed it over I was happiest knowing that Sarah using the paint now was much better than me holding onto ‘something useful.’

I'm not stopping.

Things have slowed down since the original rush but I am still committed to throwing out what I don't need. I'm finding it easier each time I throw something out.

As space opens up from the pitching of trash, I'm seeing that I'm not using my space effectively. Things have been set down and left because that was easiest at the time but now other piles are growing up around the originals and I'm starting to feel like a spelunker navigating stalactites and stalagmites. (Okay, nothing hanging from the ceiling but I was headed that way.)

Case in point: my coffee table is a mess. Filled with papers, sewing tools, knitting accoutrements, The List and various books. Set up against three sides (the sides I can reach from the couch) are layers of knitting books and magazines and similar. Throw on top of this the detritus from the day's meal and a tabletop fan and there's really no point in pretending it's anything other than a personal dumping ground.

Just an arm's reach away from the coffee table is a bookshelf. Much of it is in constant use because I keep my DVDs and videos there but there's one shelf full of books I want to keep but do not read regularly. It's time for those to move. Either box them away or find another shelf for them but just get them off the high-rent space so I can put all the books leaning up against my coffee table there instead. I'll still be able to get to them when I need them and, with the space cleared off the coffee table, I can have a dedicated 'important mail' box so I can find my bills when I need them.

Now I'm boring myself. The point is, this is going to go on for a while and I'm in it for the long haul.