I am feeling Less Than Organized this week.
Our move has now progressed to the stage known as settling in. In other words, we are in, but not settled. Which box holds my son’s orthodontic appliance? Where are my sneakers? These are mysteries to be solved.
I was so proud of my moving file, with my list of address changes all checked off. Then I realized my car registration had expired because I misfiled the bill.
I have also discovered that my fabulous color coding stickers should have been confined to cardboard boxes, and should not have been used on art or furniture. It turns out that they don’t peel off very well…even the television has a sticky paper residue.
Speaking of televisions, there seems to be one in every room now, although I have little desire to watch anything, aside from “What Not to Wear” which I can’t resist. Previously we watched only DVDs and streaming Netflix. Along with the other rather dubious benefits of digital cable (provided by our new housemate), I have been recently exposed to commercials for yet another television program about the topic of hoarding. I won’t watch those programs because the hoarders are full of anxiety, fear, and sadness. The programs are sad; before you know it, I am sad, too.
Surprisingly, there is a happy kind of hoarding. At least, it may be said that some hoarders are happy. The happy ones are generally called collectors, and they collect out of a sense of purpose or a favorite passion.
I read an interesting portrait of one such hoarder here: Hoarder of History | Find an Outlet. This is a blog post about a man who has spent most of his life collecting old cars, and it features photographs of both the collection and the collector.
If you watch a program called “American Pickers”, you may learn about a few more happy hoarders. This is a show about guys who drive around in a van looking for people with massive collections of funky old junk, like antique oil cans. The drivers are business men, not hoarders. The plan is to talk folks into selling some of their junk, so it can later be resold to other collectors at a profit. Some of the rural collectors are real characters, and they love their junk.
Meanwhile, we have moved in with a family member who is not a minimalist at all. Don’t take that the wrong way; the house is lovely, and clean (or as clean as it can be considering the age, sex, and species of some of the inhabitants). However, I have spent the past five days trying to figure out how to fit our life into a house that is already full of someone else’s life. Six televisions, two refrigerators, four sofas…you get the idea. I am happy to report that our leather sofa fit up the stairs, although the box spring for our bed did not.
My first approach in the kitchen has been to clean out drawers and cabinets, looking for items that can be removed, thus leaving potential open space for some of the items we want to integrate into the household.
Emptying one kitchen drawer turned out to be an especially interesting task. This one was what most people call a “junk drawer”.
Chewing gum, paintbrushes, seashells, fortune cookies, warranties, fake flowers…those things go together, right?
Money, frilly toothpicks, eye glasses, corncob holders, tape, vegetable storage bags, batteries…
Don’t let this happen to your kitchen drawers!