Clutter
A TWO-MINUTE encouragement
The clutter filled the sides and tops of her shed.
But it was nothing like the mess inside her head.
— Linda Brown
I have experienced a major shift in lifestyle and in body weight over the past few years, and at my age, I cannot imagine that my physical attributes or my social life are ever going to rejuvenate. So I have carefully, methodically begun to de-clutter, starting with my bedroom closet. I have sorted my clothing into three neat piles - the small “keep-and-use” pile, the large “donate-to-charity” pile, and the reluctant “feed-the-landfill” pile.
The closet looks nearly empty now, by comparison, but I won’t be replacing anything. I have seven blouses, four pairs of trousers and a few t-shirts. Does anyone of my years, living a secluded life on the California coast need more clothing than that? I think not.
I notice my remaining wardrobe is, for the most part, made up of plaid flannel and denim with accompanying orthopedic oxfords. It’s the ever-popular Santa Cruz lumberjack look. I have to say that ‘dressing up’ appears to be nowhere in my future.
So, yes. My closet looks lovely now – orderly, and sane. I am feeling somewhat orderly and sane myself, relatively speaking. I was so inspired by this major de-accession, that I have completely emptied out the other closet, too — the one filled with all the meaningless flotsam gathered by an older single woman. Some of this has formed a new pile - the “flog-on-eBay” pile.
The vacuum cleaner and mop remain, as I do plan to clean my house again someday. Although, Quentin Crisp assured us that if we do not dust our homes, after four years it doesn’t get any worse. I’ve been testing out his theory.
I have really taken to this thorough letting go. I have cleaned out the desk and all the dressers and the linen cabinet. Things are flying out of this house like chickens chased by a terrier, and I am going to keep this momentum going. NEXT: kitchen cupboards, bathroom cupboards, the shed. (The shed? Seriously?) Where I live, I can set things out on the sidewalk in front of my house and they will disappear before I can even make the ‘FREE STUFF’ sign. “Help yourself, neighbors!”
And here is the thing: When my days have ended, my son will come into my little house and look around, and be surprised to see all the empty drawers and cupboards, and know that he can have the furnishings cleared out of here in two days just by a couple of phone calls to Habitat for Humanity or Goodwill. “Take it all, gentlemen!”
It may, in fact, be one of my greatest gifts to my boy – his inheritance being not the mountains of detritus that parents usually leave behind, but rather just a bit of pocket money and a handful of memories.
He’ll find one box of things to keep, a treasury of childhood memories: faded snapshots, his Alaskan beaded baby moccasins, his original 3rd grade stories that begin with “Once a Pond a Time”, letters he wrote to me when he was nine, finger paintings he created during one especially long, rainy winter when we were hippies and didn’t own a TV.
All his school report cards are tied in a bundle. “Dennis is very social.” “Dennis never stops talking.” “Dennis needs to develop self control.” etc. But he earned all A’s and B’s, my talkative boy.
So - no junk left behind, just a box of childhood things that I have put away for him, a time-capsule of his young life and a testimony to how fiercely he was loved.
The photo of the cluttered shed is by Kavian Nechirwan on Unsplash.com
We've been downsizing as well. Feels good! We did an impressive job of filling our available space. So much I hadn't looked at in years. 95% clutter.
Good on you, Sharron. I've been better at going to the dentist than at decluttering, and even the former has been lagging! I read on etymology that the root word for clutter is clotern--to form clots. I think we are unclogging our hearts.