I haven’t disappeared or given up already. I’ve been busy with a plumbing issue (Yay! Leaks!) and been away visiting family and friends. The decluttering will take a marked upswing when we have to clean out the dining room to replace the ceiling.

 

It’s garbage day.

In the bin is a doll bed. Something that my husband and I have fought over many times. It once belonged to his mother, maybe his grandmother, maybe an aunt. Some little girl put her dolls to sleep in it and tucked them in. But then it was put away in his grandmother’s expansive attic and forgotten about. When she died and the house was cleaned out the bed was found and it was salvaged and brought to our new home.

Where it has sat in a corner of the basement for the past six years collecting dust and spiders and rusting. Because yes, this doll bed is made of metal. With pointy slats for a headboard and rope for a box spring. It is sharp and rusty and painted with what has to lead paint. Peeling lead paint.

I’m never going to let my kids play with this thing. I’m never going to fix it up, or ebay it, or anything else. It has to go. My husband agreed that it was time, and let go of the notion that holding onto it was holding onto his grandmother. So it’s out there by the alley waiting for the garbagemen to come and take it to the dump across the river.

I struggle with letting things go because I struggle with waste and environmental concerns; but in the end it doesn’t serve me well to hold onto things simply so they will not go to a landfill. It only moves the landfill to my house. So garbage day, today I am learning not to see you as my enemy, but as a tool for making my life the way I want it to be. Let’s hope the lesson sticks.

Tally count: 1

 

I think my biggest reason for wanting to blog my journey out of (and here I have to say it, even though the word freaks me out)… hoarding… is that no matter how much I want to do it, I can’t. Not alone at least. I lack the required impetus. I lack self-discipline. I lack an attention span. But

I do however have an attention-seeking dramatic side, and putting it all out there is a good way for me to meet that need. And in the process I find myself more motivated to meet my own goals. Happy circle completed.

I’ve discovered that one of the best ways to keep myself excited about cleaning (which is boring) is to keep a tally of how much crap I get rid of. When I was pregnant with my youngest, and nesting for months on end, I kept track and found that I had thrown away, recycled, donated, returned to its original owner, or otherwise rid my house of several thousand items. It was freeing. And a little nauseating. No matter what though, it was concrete evidence that I was making progress – even if the room I was working in didn’t always look like it.

So the rules are simple. If I get rid of it, by any means, and it is never coming back (so lending doesn’t count) it counts as one.

A bra? 1.
A sofa? 1.
A Happy Meal toy? 1.

Big or small, good condition or utter crap, it’s all the same. One. The only exception I make is paper. I can’t bring myself to count every slip of paper I dump, so my rule of thumb is units. Each box for the recycling truck, each full bin from the shredder, they all count as one. It’s just easier that way.

So here marks my first entry to the tally. Three. I spent two hours today cleaning out the living room corner and it’s mountain of bills, junk mailings and school flyers. I feel better already. I also think I damaged the shredder…

 

So what’s the point?

Oh gee. Another blog.

I’ve had this idea swirling about in my brain for awhile now. A new blog.  Specifically for a cleaning project I’m gearing up for. I don’t want to blog about my life, or my kids, or my day to day butthurt. I have a blog for that already. I want to clear out my house and clean up my life and I want to talk about it. I think it will help me because I need some accountability – because yo, cleaning is hard.

So imagine with me now; you have a house full of stuff. Lots and lots and lots of stuff. You like things. Your husband is a packrat, possibly a hoarder. Your three kids are going to become packrats. The Stuff is taking over. Stuff is breeding with other Stuff and the house is having Stuff Babies. It’s the only logical explanation.

Okay, not really. But you know what I’m talking about.

It’s out of control. I intend to take it back.

 

*crickets chirping*

There will be something here. I promise.