The Unclutterer blog has a great post up contemplating a one-versus-many idea of possessions.
"In theory," he writes, "we only need one pair of scissors." But in practice, we find that it's more convenient to have multiple pairs for multiple purposes and in multiple locations. The comments have lots of fun discussion about how people like to purpose their scissors.
Yes, you can get by with only one, but more of one can be very convenient. Convenience is valuable too.
I am very happy to contemplate this idea that sometimes more is better, at least to the degree that you have what you need, when and where you need it.
I've also experienced a well put-together work bench or project station, and how beautifully it contributes to productivity.
For instance, one place and career I worked, I had my own station and my own set of tools, one of everything I needed. I could reach out almost without looking and grasp exactly what I needed. After I was done, I put everything back in its place, ready for the next job.
Sure, there were more than one of most things, and specialized tools for particular jobs. The specialized gear was located in a central location, each in its specified spot, so that any of us could retrieve and put away as necessary. Everyone had at least one of the more basic tools so that no one would have to hunt or trade off while in the middle of a project. Of course, some people had more than one of a thing, and the bosses regularly borrowed one, leaving it who-knows-where. (Cue the screams of frustration: aaaiiigh!) My coworkers were not so picky about the organization of their stations, but I would growl at anyone who tried to run off with my tools (before, not after, they might have lost it). I'd rather not to waste time thinking about tracking down each thing as I needed it.
I find that a similar approach at home keeps me happy there as well.
Over the years, I've steadily moved items to the location where they are most likely to be used. So things like my tape, stapler, stamps, scissors, pens, thumbdrive, etc are right there in front of me within arms reach. No need to "dig them out." Other office supplies are stored in descending order of need. The printer, address book, and screw driver only require that I stand up. I bend down when I have to retrieve more paper for the printer. Any electronics chargers are in the closet in their designated spot - no getting lost in some dark corner. Also in the closet is a modest but highly organized caddy that keeps everything from paperclips and extra pens to watercolors and craft tools. My massive canvas stapler and ink brayer are stashed waaaaay back in a box of art tools I might need in the next couple of decades.
So. Back to the scissors. Yes, I've got 'em.
Three pairs in the kitchen. One for general papercutting and mucki-muck use. A second for food-related cutting tasks, such as cutting open a package of cheese or whatever. Then a heavy-duty kitchen knife that I use for cutting anything tough or stinky (because I can take it apart and send it through the dishwasher if necessary).
I have at least three pairs in the office. My fav is a very nice mid-sized pair of Mundial sewing scissors. I keep them in the pen-and-tool cup on my computer station. I have a pair of those Fiskars edgers that give a neat pattern edge to a piece of paper. I have a pair of nail scissors from my childhood, just because, and a little bitty pair of old fashioned scissors that came from one of the family farms. Plus a big box cutter and random blades from my art&design years.
In the bathroom, we have two pairs of scissors - my husband's mustache trimmer that I also use for trimming my hair, and a pair of "bandage scissors" with blunt ends.
In my stash of sewing gear I have three pairs. My really nice fabric scissors (Mundial again), a tiny thread trimmer pair (Mundial rocks!), and somewhere, my very old pair of fabric scissors that I acquired when I was a youngster first learning to sew. I suppose I should get rid of them, or maybe save them for when my daughter wants to start her own sewing projects when I'm not willing to let her use my good fabric scissors! (My mother was picky about the scissors designated for cutting fabric versus paper; I picked up that from her.) I also have a fabric cutting wheel blade.
Somewhere in the basement is the pair of medical scissors in the first aid kit we take backpacking.
So I feel content with this number of scissors in my life because I have just what I need where I need it. I don't have to go hunt down a particular pair for a particular purpose - it is already where I need it. And I don't foresee needing any new scissors except for a kid's version when the kiddo gets old enough to responsibly hack up construction paper.
I don't feel content with the number of flashlights I have.
Flashlights are one of those items that we always feel we need more of, only to realize that we already have too many! I think it's partly that their roles are NOT well defined, other than having a couple in a certain drawer (in case of power outage), bitty ones on our keychains (for dark driveways), and a headlamp (for camping and doing work in the attic).
That doesn't count the flashlights that people keep giving us as gifts (so useful, so cool! I can imagine them saying), and the cool stuff that we find ourselves infatuated with. Compact book lights are a particular weakness; I've told myself I have the best one already, No More! So we have a moratorium on flashlights.
I can imagine it would be a useful exercise to write out the number of a given item and the purpose of each. Is it indeed what you need? Does it fulfill its purpose? Is it where it will be best used?
Although some people are put to sleep by such details, I find this kind of meta-contemplation incredible invigorating.
Shoes: eleven, closet. Melon baller: one, kitchen drawer. Tents: uh, do we have to go there?
Self reflection gives me feedback about how I am living my life. So it's not only useful, but it's fun! (Bonus - I often get blog posts out of it. Wait - that might actually account for most of my blog! heh.)
I enjoy discovering new ways to streamline and enhance my life. So yes, I am working to get rid of clutter. Indeed I've got an extra set of kitchen knives in my donation box right now. And that pair of shoes that doesn't fit anymore, etcetera.
Clearing away what is not especially useful allows me to see what really works, not just in my kitchen or in my office, but in my life. And sometimes that means I need more of something. But in just the right place for just the right purpose. Cool. Must go contemplate some more.
--
Monday, June 28, 2010
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
We've spent the last couple of weeks on the road, visiting folks.
We stayed in a hotel and several housefuls of children and dogs. We had visits with uncles and aunts and cousins and random relatives from several sides of our families, and an old college friend to top it all off.
We went through seven-plus sleeping venue changes and forty-four people in less than fourteen days.
That count included four uncles, three aunts, five cousins, one niece, two nephews, at least fourteen children, my in-laws, a college friend, and various spouses, relatives, and associates. Oh, and not to mention three dogs, two baby pygmy goats, and approximately twenty-three cats and kittens.
It was a full trip.
The last morning on our way home, I started feeling kinda peckish. My stomach growled and gurgled. I put it down to being absolutely starved. We stopped for a late breakfast, and I ordered some of everything. But the food turned funny in my mouth, and the spinach in my omelet in particular tasted rotten. I didn't finish more than half. As we progressed further down the road, I felt more and more ill. Several hours later, we were finally home.
DH unloaded the car while I languished from room to room feeling disembodied. I felt compelled to sweep the floors, clearing out the dirt and grit that had accumulated while we were gone, but made little headway on the stack of mail or our luggage.
I did rouse myself to nurse between bouts of nausea, but then fell asleep at some indeterminate early-late hour on the couch with a small bowl in my hand. Even when my husband roused me in the wee hours to shuffle back to a real bed, I had to make a pit stop to heave into a wastebasket.
I fell into a deep, semi-dreamy sleep after forcing myself to visualize the faces of friends and family instead of the plate of spinach-laden omelet staring up at me.
When I woke, it was to the tune of cats vying for my ankles and my husband puttering in the front room. The little girl thumped her way down the hallway and into the bedroom to poke her head over the edge of the bed to smile at me. She saw the cats and started mewing at them. Miao, miao.
My husband came in the room. "She keeps saying appul or appun, and I don't know what she means," he said. "She's trying to say 'open,'" I muttered sleepily. She's using the cap on her new water bottle to learn about open and closed.
I sat up and felt, if not well, tolerably vertical. I sipped water, gingerly walked down the hall, and nursed the little girl.
I looked around curiously at the piles of baby toys and shoes, bags and boxes, and the stack of letters and bills still waiting for me. The suitcases hadn't even been unpacked yet.
Everything looked odd. It looked like somebody else's home. The next stop on the road.
Where was I again?
If it's Wednesday, it must be home. It is Wednesday, isn't it?
--
We stayed in a hotel and several housefuls of children and dogs. We had visits with uncles and aunts and cousins and random relatives from several sides of our families, and an old college friend to top it all off.
We went through seven-plus sleeping venue changes and forty-four people in less than fourteen days.
That count included four uncles, three aunts, five cousins, one niece, two nephews, at least fourteen children, my in-laws, a college friend, and various spouses, relatives, and associates. Oh, and not to mention three dogs, two baby pygmy goats, and approximately twenty-three cats and kittens.
It was a full trip.
The last morning on our way home, I started feeling kinda peckish. My stomach growled and gurgled. I put it down to being absolutely starved. We stopped for a late breakfast, and I ordered some of everything. But the food turned funny in my mouth, and the spinach in my omelet in particular tasted rotten. I didn't finish more than half. As we progressed further down the road, I felt more and more ill. Several hours later, we were finally home.
DH unloaded the car while I languished from room to room feeling disembodied. I felt compelled to sweep the floors, clearing out the dirt and grit that had accumulated while we were gone, but made little headway on the stack of mail or our luggage.
I did rouse myself to nurse between bouts of nausea, but then fell asleep at some indeterminate early-late hour on the couch with a small bowl in my hand. Even when my husband roused me in the wee hours to shuffle back to a real bed, I had to make a pit stop to heave into a wastebasket.
I fell into a deep, semi-dreamy sleep after forcing myself to visualize the faces of friends and family instead of the plate of spinach-laden omelet staring up at me.
When I woke, it was to the tune of cats vying for my ankles and my husband puttering in the front room. The little girl thumped her way down the hallway and into the bedroom to poke her head over the edge of the bed to smile at me. She saw the cats and started mewing at them. Miao, miao.
My husband came in the room. "She keeps saying appul or appun, and I don't know what she means," he said. "She's trying to say 'open,'" I muttered sleepily. She's using the cap on her new water bottle to learn about open and closed.
I sat up and felt, if not well, tolerably vertical. I sipped water, gingerly walked down the hall, and nursed the little girl.
I looked around curiously at the piles of baby toys and shoes, bags and boxes, and the stack of letters and bills still waiting for me. The suitcases hadn't even been unpacked yet.
Everything looked odd. It looked like somebody else's home. The next stop on the road.
Where was I again?
If it's Wednesday, it must be home. It is Wednesday, isn't it?
--
Friday, May 28, 2010
Mees and Mon'ee Are Friends
The little girl has a new pair of favorite toys, a mouse and a monkey.
The little brown monkey is one of those beanie-baby types that I brought out from my stash of Toys People Have Passed On To Us. The little girl had been learning the names of animals, and as soon as she saw it, she recognized that it! was! a! Minkey! I remarked to my husband that I didn't know where she would have picked up a Belgian accent* (hoho!), but the Minkey was soon transformed into a Mon'ee. And that was when she really learned to make monkey noises.
*Maybe from my habit of announcing "A bimp! There's bimp in the rhoad." before we go over a bump in the road. (Inspector Clouseau)
The mouse arrived several weeks later. I spotted it amid the huge pile of stuffed toys at the thrift shop, and something about its garish aqua green color yet sweet fabric-lined ears spoke to me. I plucked it out and showed it to the little girl. What do you think of that? What is it? She lit up and made the sign for mouse, flicking her index finger back and forth across her nose. That's right, it's a mouse! By the time we got home, it had become Mes or Mees.
So now we have the wonder twins that go everywhere together. Mon'ee! she'll demand. And once she has it in hand, she'll say, Mees! or vice versa. My husband thought for the longest time that she was mispronouncing the name of whichever she already had, but no, she was asking for them by name. If she has one, she wants both of them.
Perhaps it's that they are weighted nicely so that they sit up well. Perhaps they are just the right size and heft for easy snuggling with toddler arms. Perhaps they both begin with M? I think it's as much that she knows what they are, and knows that she knows what they are, that make them so irresistible. Before the animals arrived, she could make noises or signs to name them, but once she attached verbal name to animal, she was enchanted.
So now before we start our bedtime nursing, she has to have first one, then the other as well, clasped adoringly in her arms, possibly wedged under her chin or squished into my stomach. It makes no matter how they get in her way. There may even be a hand or two left for a cup or block. She'll leave them behind when she falls asleep snuggling with her daddy, but at least we won't roll over onto any hard edges if they get lost in the bed.
My husband came in to the office this evening after bedtime holding one in each hand like a pair of juvenile delinquents he had found stirring up trouble. What do you want me to do with these? he wanted to know, quirking his eyebrows. I grinned and reached out to take them. They can sit by my computer 'til she asks for them tomorrow.
Mees! Mon'ee! She'll rejoice, and hug them to her like her best two friends.
Before Mees showed up, we once took Mon'ee hidden in the diaper bag to the last doctor's visit. It was my trump card distraction after the little girl's lower lip started poking out in distress. Not more poking and prodding! Scary people - aaahhhhh! She clutched that monkey to her neck with no hesitation. I think hugging a little friend helped her bear the scariness in a way that even the presence of Mommy could not.
She used to suck her thumb; now she clutches the monkey. I'm thinking it's not a bad idea to cultivate a few love-transference objects. We could all use a few snuggle friends.
--
The little brown monkey is one of those beanie-baby types that I brought out from my stash of Toys People Have Passed On To Us. The little girl had been learning the names of animals, and as soon as she saw it, she recognized that it! was! a! Minkey! I remarked to my husband that I didn't know where she would have picked up a Belgian accent* (hoho!), but the Minkey was soon transformed into a Mon'ee. And that was when she really learned to make monkey noises.
*Maybe from my habit of announcing "A bimp! There's bimp in the rhoad." before we go over a bump in the road. (Inspector Clouseau)
The mouse arrived several weeks later. I spotted it amid the huge pile of stuffed toys at the thrift shop, and something about its garish aqua green color yet sweet fabric-lined ears spoke to me. I plucked it out and showed it to the little girl. What do you think of that? What is it? She lit up and made the sign for mouse, flicking her index finger back and forth across her nose. That's right, it's a mouse! By the time we got home, it had become Mes or Mees.
So now we have the wonder twins that go everywhere together. Mon'ee! she'll demand. And once she has it in hand, she'll say, Mees! or vice versa. My husband thought for the longest time that she was mispronouncing the name of whichever she already had, but no, she was asking for them by name. If she has one, she wants both of them.
Perhaps it's that they are weighted nicely so that they sit up well. Perhaps they are just the right size and heft for easy snuggling with toddler arms. Perhaps they both begin with M? I think it's as much that she knows what they are, and knows that she knows what they are, that make them so irresistible. Before the animals arrived, she could make noises or signs to name them, but once she attached verbal name to animal, she was enchanted.
So now before we start our bedtime nursing, she has to have first one, then the other as well, clasped adoringly in her arms, possibly wedged under her chin or squished into my stomach. It makes no matter how they get in her way. There may even be a hand or two left for a cup or block. She'll leave them behind when she falls asleep snuggling with her daddy, but at least we won't roll over onto any hard edges if they get lost in the bed.
My husband came in to the office this evening after bedtime holding one in each hand like a pair of juvenile delinquents he had found stirring up trouble. What do you want me to do with these? he wanted to know, quirking his eyebrows. I grinned and reached out to take them. They can sit by my computer 'til she asks for them tomorrow.
Mees! Mon'ee! She'll rejoice, and hug them to her like her best two friends.
Before Mees showed up, we once took Mon'ee hidden in the diaper bag to the last doctor's visit. It was my trump card distraction after the little girl's lower lip started poking out in distress. Not more poking and prodding! Scary people - aaahhhhh! She clutched that monkey to her neck with no hesitation. I think hugging a little friend helped her bear the scariness in a way that even the presence of Mommy could not.
She used to suck her thumb; now she clutches the monkey. I'm thinking it's not a bad idea to cultivate a few love-transference objects. We could all use a few snuggle friends.
--
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Small Success: Diminishing Desk Pile
First, a little moment of silence and sympathy for the Chicago couple who was almost done in by their own garbage. (It's admittedly a big reminder that however daunting my clutter, my problems are piddling in comparison.) One of them fell through a pile, and the other also got stuck trying to rescue them. Weeks later, a neighbor got a little concerned. They were rescued, but in terrible condition. Sending out a little prayer of support to all the hoarders of the world. Take care of yourselves. You can get help.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
So I do follow Flylady, I do. But I've fallen off the wagon in terms of following the daily notes (take 15 min to clear your hotspot, vacuum the middle of the floors in 10 min, etc). I note the zone cleaning reminders and the quick challenges, but I don't actually go DO them, usually. Other than a few swish n swipes, I don't follow along.
I'm also pitiful about using the timer to help keep myself focused while I tackle tasks. It just seems like too much bother to make an effort when I have such little concentrated time to begin with. Too many right now kinds of demands to worry about the backlog.
But today and recently, I've been re-encouraged.
I go around clearing areas that have gotten swallowed in miscellaneous junk (i.e. "hotspots"), and then polishing those areas once they are clear. I've been collecting Items To Give Away in a box in the front hall. (It's so freeing when I make that decision and put something in there. Decision done!) The kitchen sideboard has benefited from this, also the kitchen counter closest to the sink. Slowly I am clearing, rearranging cleaning. Sometimes all it takes is clearing space to make way for a new piece of household scenery, and the space is transformed. I like being able to see the soft shine of my cherrywood china cabinet.
Today while the baby napped, I convinced myself to start on the monstrous pile that my desk has become.
In addition to the usual papers and leftover projects, and the ukulele sob!, it's been accumulating new papers, piles of baby clothing to sort, incomplete Christmas gifts, new checks, batteries, and odds and ends that I must suddenly put out of reach of my daughter. She stands up these days, you know, and often uses a hand or two to see what trinket or hazard she might grab. Sometimes I can distract her with a book or toy that lives here, but I'm still constantly throwing little things on the desk to get them out of her reach. When I sit at my computer, the desk pile reached nearly as high as the top of my head. Nothing I did seemed to make a dent. Plus more things kept getting added.
Today I told myself I was going to get below the first layer, yes, I was. I set my timer and started sorting.
Stuff to file, stuff to toss, stuff to give away.
In not too long, I could see the rest of my poor ukulele's case. And a blouse I meant to donate, and a travel list I'm going to need next month, and the baby monitor that we need to give back, and... Lots of things that really needed to be put elsewhere, many of them into the circular file under my desk *ahem* or in another room entirely, although most of my findings would still be useful if only I could find them.
After two or three fifteen-minute sessions, the average height of my desk pile is now only chest high when I'm sitting down. I can see, if not the end, the beginning of the end of the pile. Oh, yay! Just by making a dent in the clutter, I feel that it's actually possible to shrink it to nothing.
And then I can tackle all the other nagging areas of the house!
I still need to finish sorting out my new filing system, but now that I have my timer back in hand, life is so much more hopeful. A big yay! for getting back on the FlyLady timer bandwagon.
--
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
So I do follow Flylady, I do. But I've fallen off the wagon in terms of following the daily notes (take 15 min to clear your hotspot, vacuum the middle of the floors in 10 min, etc). I note the zone cleaning reminders and the quick challenges, but I don't actually go DO them, usually. Other than a few swish n swipes, I don't follow along.
I'm also pitiful about using the timer to help keep myself focused while I tackle tasks. It just seems like too much bother to make an effort when I have such little concentrated time to begin with. Too many right now kinds of demands to worry about the backlog.
But today and recently, I've been re-encouraged.
I go around clearing areas that have gotten swallowed in miscellaneous junk (i.e. "hotspots"), and then polishing those areas once they are clear. I've been collecting Items To Give Away in a box in the front hall. (It's so freeing when I make that decision and put something in there. Decision done!) The kitchen sideboard has benefited from this, also the kitchen counter closest to the sink. Slowly I am clearing, rearranging cleaning. Sometimes all it takes is clearing space to make way for a new piece of household scenery, and the space is transformed. I like being able to see the soft shine of my cherrywood china cabinet.
Today while the baby napped, I convinced myself to start on the monstrous pile that my desk has become.
In addition to the usual papers and leftover projects, and the ukulele sob!, it's been accumulating new papers, piles of baby clothing to sort, incomplete Christmas gifts, new checks, batteries, and odds and ends that I must suddenly put out of reach of my daughter. She stands up these days, you know, and often uses a hand or two to see what trinket or hazard she might grab. Sometimes I can distract her with a book or toy that lives here, but I'm still constantly throwing little things on the desk to get them out of her reach. When I sit at my computer, the desk pile reached nearly as high as the top of my head. Nothing I did seemed to make a dent. Plus more things kept getting added.
Today I told myself I was going to get below the first layer, yes, I was. I set my timer and started sorting.
Stuff to file, stuff to toss, stuff to give away.
In not too long, I could see the rest of my poor ukulele's case. And a blouse I meant to donate, and a travel list I'm going to need next month, and the baby monitor that we need to give back, and... Lots of things that really needed to be put elsewhere, many of them into the circular file under my desk *ahem* or in another room entirely, although most of my findings would still be useful if only I could find them.
After two or three fifteen-minute sessions, the average height of my desk pile is now only chest high when I'm sitting down. I can see, if not the end, the beginning of the end of the pile. Oh, yay! Just by making a dent in the clutter, I feel that it's actually possible to shrink it to nothing.
And then I can tackle all the other nagging areas of the house!
I still need to finish sorting out my new filing system, but now that I have my timer back in hand, life is so much more hopeful. A big yay! for getting back on the FlyLady timer bandwagon.
--
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Can't Get No Digital Satisfaction
One of the effects of my digital detox week was that I realized that online communities like Facebook, while useful for keeping connected in some way, are in other ways counterproductive.
Trying to have relationships by FB is like trying to eat a dinner of hors d'oeuvres. It may fill you up, but it can leave one feeling profoundly dissatisfied. And that feels so accurate, I want to say it again:
Profoundly dissatisfied.
Not to mention a little grouchy and irritated.
I know some people like those small bites at a tapas bar, but it just does not do it for me. I need a whole meal. And FB in particular does not do it for me.
In fact, seeing what everyone else is up to can exaggerate any feelings of isolation. Or I can feel heard but not understood, seen but not cared for.
I found that I enjoyed conversations when they occurred, but more often there is no conversation.
Often, I'm shouting into the forest. One's voice sounds weird there. It disappears into the trees, and maybe you get a rational and engaging response, or maybe you get strange and unsettling noises. Worse, the people who annoy me just a little in real life are irritating as hell on FB. Interactions either die away or they are magnified into something grotesque. Lots of stimulation with little resolution.
I'm not complaining about my friends, really. Most of them are lovely people. And if that's the only way I can talk to them, I'll take it. I've even learned more about some of my friends.
But when you want a real conversation, when you want someone to look at you and really appreciate what you are saying about your life, or when you want to appreciate what someone else is going through in their life, this ersatz medium just does not cut it.
You know how when you detox physically that you might have a negative reaction when you reintroduce various substances? After letting it go and coming back to it, I discovered that I am slightly allergic to FB. My psyche actually hates it, but it tastes just good enough that I still drop in to sample it from time to time.
In the last month, I've noticed myself, quite unconsciously, connecting with people in my real life community.
I've been introducing myself to a person here or there at dances. I find out a little more about who they are and what their story is.
Or I pause to talk to a friend and hear about what their life is currently like.
I take more time to snuggle my cats, hang out with my husband.
I spend some time talking to the bread ladies at the co-op.
I invite friends to meet me for an impromptu taco run.
I call my sister.
I even wrote a letter.
I like it. It's real life status updates. Live and in person, baby!
Instead of snagging twinkies out of the air, I'm sitting down to a light but full meal. I think it even has vegetables in it.
--
Trying to have relationships by FB is like trying to eat a dinner of hors d'oeuvres. It may fill you up, but it can leave one feeling profoundly dissatisfied. And that feels so accurate, I want to say it again:
Profoundly dissatisfied.
Not to mention a little grouchy and irritated.
I know some people like those small bites at a tapas bar, but it just does not do it for me. I need a whole meal. And FB in particular does not do it for me.
In fact, seeing what everyone else is up to can exaggerate any feelings of isolation. Or I can feel heard but not understood, seen but not cared for.
I found that I enjoyed conversations when they occurred, but more often there is no conversation.
Often, I'm shouting into the forest. One's voice sounds weird there. It disappears into the trees, and maybe you get a rational and engaging response, or maybe you get strange and unsettling noises. Worse, the people who annoy me just a little in real life are irritating as hell on FB. Interactions either die away or they are magnified into something grotesque. Lots of stimulation with little resolution.
I'm not complaining about my friends, really. Most of them are lovely people. And if that's the only way I can talk to them, I'll take it. I've even learned more about some of my friends.
But when you want a real conversation, when you want someone to look at you and really appreciate what you are saying about your life, or when you want to appreciate what someone else is going through in their life, this ersatz medium just does not cut it.
You know how when you detox physically that you might have a negative reaction when you reintroduce various substances? After letting it go and coming back to it, I discovered that I am slightly allergic to FB. My psyche actually hates it, but it tastes just good enough that I still drop in to sample it from time to time.
In the last month, I've noticed myself, quite unconsciously, connecting with people in my real life community.
I've been introducing myself to a person here or there at dances. I find out a little more about who they are and what their story is.
Or I pause to talk to a friend and hear about what their life is currently like.
I take more time to snuggle my cats, hang out with my husband.
I spend some time talking to the bread ladies at the co-op.
I invite friends to meet me for an impromptu taco run.
I call my sister.
I even wrote a letter.
I like it. It's real life status updates. Live and in person, baby!
Instead of snagging twinkies out of the air, I'm sitting down to a light but full meal. I think it even has vegetables in it.
--
Small Accomplishments with Summer Downpours
Some of my small accomplishments today:
Slept in a reasonable hour, but then got out of bed without audible whining.
Emailed two of my cousins about when we might visit them next month. Clarified days and possible times.
Looked at a friend's pictures.
Read about the wreck/salvage story of the Steamboat Arabia.
One of my historian friends made the trek to Kansas City, Missouri to view the site and salvage remains recently.
Logged off the computer after short sessions.
Finished two different graphic novels by Neil Gaiman. Magic and Death. I enjoyed both of them in different ways.
Washed dishes after every meal.
Wiped down high chair.
Spritzed ants with vinegar water. It confuses them so they don't come back.
Put away clean dishes from the dishwasher.
Cooked up a pan of vegetables for the our lunch and actually got the little girl to try them. She likes broccoli and green beans when they are sauteed with garlic and curry paste.
Washed the cast iron skillet and re-seasoned it with oil.
Cleaned and shined the bath tub, including swiping the crud that builds up on the corners. Then I enjoyed taking a bath!
Containerized all toys before bed.
Changed several diapers, poopy and otherwise.
Didn't get annoyed when the little girl threw her juice or milk cup on the floor.
Cut up apple and banana for the little girl.
Cut up a small watermelon with a melon baller.
Ate good food myself including fruit and the aforesaid vegetables.
Neatened crib.
Brought in mail, prepared outgoing bills, read city newsletter.
Read local newspaper, worked a few puzzles.
Make grocery lists.
Took pictures of my cabinet storage.
Snuggled cats.
Pulled up and restraightened coverlet on bed.
Retrieved dirty clothes for laundry hampers.
Pre-tore a stack of soft bath tissue for butt wipes. This is our new strategy for dealing with the little girl's sensitive bottom.
Logged in some of the new baby clothing on my clothing spreadsheet. This is just to keep track of what I have and where our clothing gaps are.
Thought about the question "If you had to get rid of half of your stuff, what would you keep?"
Sorted drawer of long-sleeved shirts into To Give Away, To Keep, and On Probation.
Tried on stack of loungewear pants, decided which to keep (one pair out of the pile).
Reorganized some blouses in the closet.
Updated travel packing list.
Thought about possible quilting project with yummy colors/prints I already have.
Sneakily listened to music clips of possible birthday present for DH.
Stepped up to soothe when little girl got fussy. Poor baby has a runny nose today. Wiped nose repeatedly.
Nursed.
Sang bedtime songs.
Wrote another post.
--
Slept in a reasonable hour, but then got out of bed without audible whining.
Emailed two of my cousins about when we might visit them next month. Clarified days and possible times.
Looked at a friend's pictures.
Read about the wreck/salvage story of the Steamboat Arabia.
One of my historian friends made the trek to Kansas City, Missouri to view the site and salvage remains recently.
Logged off the computer after short sessions.
Finished two different graphic novels by Neil Gaiman. Magic and Death. I enjoyed both of them in different ways.
Washed dishes after every meal.
Wiped down high chair.
Spritzed ants with vinegar water. It confuses them so they don't come back.
Put away clean dishes from the dishwasher.
Cooked up a pan of vegetables for the our lunch and actually got the little girl to try them. She likes broccoli and green beans when they are sauteed with garlic and curry paste.
Washed the cast iron skillet and re-seasoned it with oil.
Cleaned and shined the bath tub, including swiping the crud that builds up on the corners. Then I enjoyed taking a bath!
Containerized all toys before bed.
Changed several diapers, poopy and otherwise.
Didn't get annoyed when the little girl threw her juice or milk cup on the floor.
Cut up apple and banana for the little girl.
Cut up a small watermelon with a melon baller.
Ate good food myself including fruit and the aforesaid vegetables.
Neatened crib.
Brought in mail, prepared outgoing bills, read city newsletter.
Read local newspaper, worked a few puzzles.
Make grocery lists.
Took pictures of my cabinet storage.
Snuggled cats.
Pulled up and restraightened coverlet on bed.
Retrieved dirty clothes for laundry hampers.
Pre-tore a stack of soft bath tissue for butt wipes. This is our new strategy for dealing with the little girl's sensitive bottom.
Logged in some of the new baby clothing on my clothing spreadsheet. This is just to keep track of what I have and where our clothing gaps are.
Thought about the question "If you had to get rid of half of your stuff, what would you keep?"
Sorted drawer of long-sleeved shirts into To Give Away, To Keep, and On Probation.
Tried on stack of loungewear pants, decided which to keep (one pair out of the pile).
Reorganized some blouses in the closet.
Updated travel packing list.
Thought about possible quilting project with yummy colors/prints I already have.
Sneakily listened to music clips of possible birthday present for DH.
Stepped up to soothe when little girl got fussy. Poor baby has a runny nose today. Wiped nose repeatedly.
Nursed.
Sang bedtime songs.
Wrote another post.
--
Thursday, May 20, 2010
One In, One Out
As I've been decluttering and slowly paring down my possessions, one maxim that I'm trying on for size is: For every item you bring home, get rid of another item. While I agree with the idea in a general sense, this month, I am trying that more literally.
So I brought home some new jeans and flannel pajama pants from a clothing exchange. And a sweater or two. Before I agree to move them into my clothing stash, I need to decide which of my existing clothes to get rid of. Am I ready to let go of the jeans that don't quite fit well any more? Are the newer jeans actually good enough to replace them? I ask myself. A couple of the "new" clothes are duds after all and I'm sending them back out immediately. Into the Goodwill pile for you! Likewise, I am trying to decide if the new sweater I got is "good enough" to replace another sweater. At least one of them has got to go. Maybe I'll get rid of that ugly, scratchy black oversized cardigan my cousin passed on to me in the '70s or that little plum colored sweater that's a little too short.
We rounded out our plate collection recently because there's a certain size of small plate that we use all the time. In fact, we never have enough of them. So in with four smaller plates, and out with... another four dishes of some sort. Maybe the hand-thrown bowls that are not actually much use. We never use them, have never used them, are not likely to ever grab them if we have the choice. Okay! That was easy enough. Usually I have to go look at what I have.
Sometimes I get a head start on giving things away.
I got rid of a strangely-patterned tablecloth and napkins last month. Of course, the week afterwards, my mother found another napkin that went with the set. Now isn't that funny! With no guilt, I told her that I honestly couldn't remember where I'd even gotten the thing, and that I'd passed it on. Gift from a relative? Oops! Oh, well. Out of the house, out of mind. I have another set of napkins + table cloth that I am also getting rid of. I've been "getting rid" of them for years. I got them at a great price, but I've never used them and the color is not strictly just right. Time to put that one on the Goodwill pile so it'll be out of the house, out of mind as well.
This week I had a chance to give away gobs of baby clothes (including all the preemie clothes that most babies won't fit into) to a mother-baby support organization. Once I started pulling things out of the closet, I started saying, "Here, you can have the pair of organic cotton swaddlers for the new mother of twins." Oh, and these leftover bags of new diapers (now too small for my daughter), and the other box of 0-3 months age clothing, and this spare blanket, AND my entire bag of flannel receiving blankets (which somehow multiply like rabbits when one has a new child). It was good feeling. I then started looking at my collection of baby bottles. Yup, I can pass pretty much all of that along. My decluttering karma is very happy.
Then I recently found a new Goodwill outlet near my sister's house. She had found some cute clothes for the little girl, so I went over there myself to see what could be had. I found more baby clothing items, including some very nice pajama sets (which we never seem to have enough of), a stuffed mouse for the baby ("Mis!" she calls the it), and several great new tops for myself in yummy colors. Men's shirts also looked promising, but I didn't have time to peruse them seriously.
So I have a few more baby clothes for the next year or so, and several great new long-sleeved tops... and therefor, I tell myself, I should get rid of the same number of existing tops!
This is a good excuse to go through my twenty-year old stash of long sleeved shirts and replace them with updated styles and colors. Maybe I'll get rid of that deep sea green shirt with the heavy cuffs. Or the spicy mustard-color shirt. Oy, when was the last time I wore that? Or the taupe thing with a tight collar. Gak!
But I'm being difficult.
I remind myself, All of the old shirts could be useful.
My decluttering self says, Sharrup! When have you worn that since you moved here? Get rid of it now!
I'm going to have to take them out and put them side by side with the new shirts and tell myself it'll be okay. Like a prisoners exchange.
I'll trade you one awful shirt for one nice shirt. Yes, they are awful shirts. You are so tired of earth tones, you've told me so. Now get them out of the house! Take my shirts, please.
But what if I don't have anything to wear when it gets cold? I whine.
You'll be forced to wear better and more attractive shirts! my decluttering self snorts.
Then we'll play sad music on tiny violins and solemnly bid the old shirts adieu and hide them in the thrift store box, and do a little dance of decluttering glee. Take no prisoners.
--
So I brought home some new jeans and flannel pajama pants from a clothing exchange. And a sweater or two. Before I agree to move them into my clothing stash, I need to decide which of my existing clothes to get rid of. Am I ready to let go of the jeans that don't quite fit well any more? Are the newer jeans actually good enough to replace them? I ask myself. A couple of the "new" clothes are duds after all and I'm sending them back out immediately. Into the Goodwill pile for you! Likewise, I am trying to decide if the new sweater I got is "good enough" to replace another sweater. At least one of them has got to go. Maybe I'll get rid of that ugly, scratchy black oversized cardigan my cousin passed on to me in the '70s or that little plum colored sweater that's a little too short.
We rounded out our plate collection recently because there's a certain size of small plate that we use all the time. In fact, we never have enough of them. So in with four smaller plates, and out with... another four dishes of some sort. Maybe the hand-thrown bowls that are not actually much use. We never use them, have never used them, are not likely to ever grab them if we have the choice. Okay! That was easy enough. Usually I have to go look at what I have.
Sometimes I get a head start on giving things away.
I got rid of a strangely-patterned tablecloth and napkins last month. Of course, the week afterwards, my mother found another napkin that went with the set. Now isn't that funny! With no guilt, I told her that I honestly couldn't remember where I'd even gotten the thing, and that I'd passed it on. Gift from a relative? Oops! Oh, well. Out of the house, out of mind. I have another set of napkins + table cloth that I am also getting rid of. I've been "getting rid" of them for years. I got them at a great price, but I've never used them and the color is not strictly just right. Time to put that one on the Goodwill pile so it'll be out of the house, out of mind as well.
This week I had a chance to give away gobs of baby clothes (including all the preemie clothes that most babies won't fit into) to a mother-baby support organization. Once I started pulling things out of the closet, I started saying, "Here, you can have the pair of organic cotton swaddlers for the new mother of twins." Oh, and these leftover bags of new diapers (now too small for my daughter), and the other box of 0-3 months age clothing, and this spare blanket, AND my entire bag of flannel receiving blankets (which somehow multiply like rabbits when one has a new child). It was good feeling. I then started looking at my collection of baby bottles. Yup, I can pass pretty much all of that along. My decluttering karma is very happy.
Then I recently found a new Goodwill outlet near my sister's house. She had found some cute clothes for the little girl, so I went over there myself to see what could be had. I found more baby clothing items, including some very nice pajama sets (which we never seem to have enough of), a stuffed mouse for the baby ("Mis!" she calls the it), and several great new tops for myself in yummy colors. Men's shirts also looked promising, but I didn't have time to peruse them seriously.
So I have a few more baby clothes for the next year or so, and several great new long-sleeved tops... and therefor, I tell myself, I should get rid of the same number of existing tops!
This is a good excuse to go through my twenty-year old stash of long sleeved shirts and replace them with updated styles and colors. Maybe I'll get rid of that deep sea green shirt with the heavy cuffs. Or the spicy mustard-color shirt. Oy, when was the last time I wore that? Or the taupe thing with a tight collar. Gak!
But I'm being difficult.
I remind myself, All of the old shirts could be useful.
My decluttering self says, Sharrup! When have you worn that since you moved here? Get rid of it now!
I'm going to have to take them out and put them side by side with the new shirts and tell myself it'll be okay. Like a prisoners exchange.
I'll trade you one awful shirt for one nice shirt. Yes, they are awful shirts. You are so tired of earth tones, you've told me so. Now get them out of the house! Take my shirts, please.
But what if I don't have anything to wear when it gets cold? I whine.
You'll be forced to wear better and more attractive shirts! my decluttering self snorts.
Then we'll play sad music on tiny violins and solemnly bid the old shirts adieu and hide them in the thrift store box, and do a little dance of decluttering glee. Take no prisoners.
--
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