What a difference a week makes. Last Tuesday I was moaning about having too much ‘stuff’; and how I had to start getting rid of it. Well you wouldn’t believe the progress I’ve made. So much so, I simply have to blog about it again, today.
Can’t say I blame you if you’ve had enough of this, particular topic, but I’m just having so much fun I can’t help myself. So please, indulge me. God knows if or when I’ll ever feel like this again.
Yes, I did say “fun”. I know, “fun” is not usually a word one would associate with cleaning out drawers, closets, desks etc. Unless you’re one of those neat freaks, which I am, most assuredly, not. But for some, inexplicable reason, I’m enjoying myself — despite the sore back it’s giving me.
It’s wonderful to see all those bags piled up, ready to go — to the garbage, to recycling, to the shredder, to whoever wants it. There’s more of ’em every day; and I must say, I am getting a tremendous sense of accomplishment.
My apartment is beginning to look bigger. Of course it is, the piles of crap are gone and there’s ‘space’ in their place. My pantry is actually looking a little bare. Which is just fine because I’ve lost my cooking mojo anyway. So, no, my friends, I will not be filling those shelves with all kinds of sauces, seasonings, spices etc. any time soon.
I’m almost embarrassed to tell you how many bags I have, filled with old bank statements, tax returns, receipts, memos, letters, old briefs, pay stubs, instruction booklets and manuals for gizmos long gone, empty file folders, newspaper clippings, plant food, and other assorted, useless, and out of date odds and sods. And then there’s the clothing …
Just yesterday I found a virtually brand new pair of shoes — except they’re at least 5 or 6 years old. I remember I decided they were too small, so they got relegated to a corner of my closet and then forgotten. Except they fit perfectly. I found a briefcase I used to love and drove myself crazy, wondering where it had gone to. I found a handbag I don’t remember ever buying. And some clothes with the price tags still on.
And I’m just really getting started.
This has spurred me on. Now I can’t wait to get up in the morning and start tossing. No, I’m not talking about that almost desperate purging we all go through when we’re moving. When we don’t really even look at what we’re getting rid of — we’re just intent on having less to pack and unpack, is all.
No, I’m talking about the pure, unbridled joy and satisfaction that comes from hanging things up … making sure all your hangers face in the same direction … folding and refolding and putting neatly away … polishing and wiping and dusting … filing … sorting … placing … dare I say, organizing … ?????????
What have I done here? I think I’ve created a monster.
A monster with a hefty bag in one hand and shoe trees in the other. A monster, who grins from ear to ear every time she can cross a chore off a to-do list. A monster, down on all fours, reaching in the farthest corners of every closet, pantry and cupboard in the house, determined to keep going until everything unnecessary is gone and what remains is neatly stacked in order of height. A monster who is, of her own free will and volition, putting elastic bands around all the little packets of soy sauce that are always in the bag with take-out orders. You know, the ones you always stuff into your cutlery drawer.
A monster who is finally getting rid of all the tubes and containers and pots of mostly-gone make up and nail polish … the dry cleaners’ hangers … the single socks and torn dish cloths.
A monster who will not stop until her cleaning lady gets down on her knees and kisses her red, rough, scraped and sore fingers, thanking her over and over again, with tears of gratitude welling in her eyes.
Will I ever stop? Or am I destined to spin madly out of control, ending my days sitting on the floor, sucking my thumb and sorting socks?????