We need a rule

Growing up, I had a friend, whose mother had a "sewing room" where ostensibly she sewed; her sewing machine did in fact sometimes turn out clothing (much to my friend's consternation, preferring, as we all did back then, brand name clothes).  This room, though, also served as a catch-all room for items that otherwise had no place in the house.  "Where should I put this thing you bought at the garage sale."  Answer:  Oh, I thought I could paint this and turn it into a centerpiece for the dining room; just put it in the sewing room for now.  What about these Life magazines from the 50s?  "They'll be worth money some day; for now, just stack them in the sewing room."  Etc.

My parents had no such room, nor would have allowed such a room (except for possibly certain garages).  Our homes (and there were many) were always very "put together" -- ensemble furniture, no clutter, decorative accessorizing, etc.  My mother insisted that this order be maintained even in our rooms, and I spent many a Friday night during my teen years contemplating the sin of not having cleaned my room for the cleaning lady on Thursday.

In many ways, then, it is not surprising that age 38 found me living like those ladies with 85 cats, nor is it surprising that living that way depressed me and that I have no desire to go back to that.  I don't want to live with mismatched furniture, just because it was free.  I don't want to live with crap piled on every available surface; I don't want to live with boxes that haven't been unpacked since the last century.

I do not.  And I will not.  To that end, I rid myself of a half ton of crap that had been cluttering my apartment and my life.  Except for books, the majority of what made the cut were kitchen items, clothes (which I'd also pared down significantly; I mean, am I really ever going to fit into that size 1 shirt again?)

Today, Tom said something that nearly made me cry.  "I'm waiting for you to get your stuff out of the way so that I can bring over my 45 boxes from my mom's."  Seriously, even thinking about it now depresses me.  Damn it.  I want boxes emptied, so that we can live in a nice, clean, relatively clutter-free house, and he wants to bring over stuff that we don't need, and he hasn't even used in years, like "little, tiny screwdrivers."  We don't NEED little, tiny screwdrivers.  In fact, I think the whole of Lowe's and Home Depot exists in the house.  "I'm not just going to get rid of it," he said.  To which I replied, "Why not?" 

All I want is a rule.  Or two.  1) No redundant systems or solutions. If we already have one, we don't need another.  2) If it isn't a utilitarian or entertaining object that will be employed or enjoyed, it gets tossed (or proactively, it never makes it in).  This was the logic I applied to my own purge (and continues to be applied as I continue to unpack); I see no reason why this logic cannot be applied globally.  The exceptions to either of these rules is if something is irreplaceable, and it isn't immediately clear if it will be utilized or enjoyed.  I would expect these exceptions to be minimal, and that their entertainment and utilitarian value is re-assessed at a point in the mid-future.  Exceptions can also be made for items with true sentimental value.   Little tiny screwdrivers, therefore, would not make the cut.

This isn't about control.  This isn't about being in charge.  This is about order.  This is about stamping out uncontrolled chaos.  This is about our home being a haven.

Is that such a bad thing?

Posted by: Book on 6/16/2008 3:44:59 PM , 7 comments