I was planning a road trip to my favorite store, Tuesday Morning. I love to spend hours there, wandering up and down the aisles dreaming. Finding trinkets, journals to write in, decorations, glasses, sheets, pillowcases, crafts. Oh my! It’s a rainy day and I’ve been working oh, so hard. A drive to Lynnwood would be therapeutic, right?
During my morning trek through the endless pathways of the Internet, I found my way to a site which has illuminated an area of my life that I have kept hidden from everyone. Well, Becky probably knows it all too well.
And so, since today is Friday, Fai’s Rant Day, I will share my angst with you: Clutter and My Intimate Relationship With It.
This morning I was checking out ‘Becoming Minimalist,’ a blog by Joshua Becker. Two of his books, ‘Simplify,’ and ‘Inside-Out Simplicity’ are on my Kindle. If they were on my physical bookshelf, I’m not sure I would be able to find them. On his page, ‘The Statistics of Clutter,’ he states that 40% of housework in the average home could be eliminated by getting rid of clutter. 40%! I think that could mean that would save around 40% of my time spent on housework. I could use that time!
But why is getting rid of clutter so hard? Why am I so addicted to obtaining, organizing and cleaning my clutter? Why are these things so valuable to me? Some of these things I didn’t even pay for. Pens that I’ve collected from Drug Reps, magnetic business cards (my refrigerator is not magnetic), note pads with advertisements on them, the list goes on. Then there’s the sheets in the wrong color, the shed that’s waiting to be sorted through with zillions of boxes that I’ve collected to cart it all away. Why?
A part of the problem is that I’ve proven to myself over the years that exactly 157 days following a household purge, I will discover that one of the things I’ve tossed/sold/lost will be desperately needed, and no store in the world carries it any longer. I have bought the Readers Digest Book, ‘Fix-It-Yourself Manual’ three times from thrift stores for that very reason. God only knows, it could be the same copy. Yet have I opened this book once out of a need to fix something? Noooooooo. In the middle of the night, I wake up and realize I need to hunt it down and buy it yet again.
The makeup in my drawer that I’m allergic to, the 457 shades of fingernail polish, my five drawers full of my beloved pens. Do they really add to the value of my life? Things are sitting out on my countertops, because the drawers are full. Yet the drawers are never opened because the things in them are never used.
Thoreau said, “Simplify, simplify.” Perhaps all these belongings are like adverbs. That being said, however, it looks like Tuesday Morning may be having a sale today …