(no subject)

[dampscribbler]

Leah writes about housekeeping, a subject to which Rayne responds, and finally Leah closes the loop, at least for the moment. Housekeeping, particularly poor housekeeping, seems to get a lot of attention in the blogosphere. Especially from women, not too surprisingly. Karen details her journey from slob to non-slob, and kebbo bragged about her accomplishments in the housekeeping department earlier this year. And zoe_tropebrags about her own brand of slobdom.

I guess it's my turn. I made a New Year resolution to start organizing this house as of the second week of January. It is now the last day of March and I haven't yet begun the process. You see, it terrifies me. From about the age of 11 or 12 onward, I was slobby, except when it counted. And the only time it counted was when we were moving, which happened about every other year.

If you haven't done it that often, you may not realize how traumatic it is to move every other year. I did it, and I didn't realize how traumatic it was. It seemed normal to me, mostly. Except that it sucked leaving friends behind and having to make new ones -- again and again and again and again. It was like starting a new life every other year. And, of course, in order to start a new life, one must in some sense die.

As an adult, bad things happened when I cleaned up. Twice I hired a professional organizer to help me get my s**t put away, all neat and clean and organized-like. Both times I got fired from my job within days afterward. Horribly traumatic.

So, to me, cleaning up is like dying, or preparing for death. Except I'm not ready for dying. I'm 37 years old and about to be a mother for the first time, and I'd like to be alive for a long time yet. I see that it looks a little silly when stated this way, but it's the truth, and I'm hoping that maybe confessing this truth, maybe journaling my experiences as I do this thing I've been putting off for 20-odd years, will help me get it done. Because on some level, I know that cleaning doesn't mean I have to die, and I know that it means I probably will actually live better. Much better, quite possibly. As it stands right now, my stuff gets in the way of me doing much. It's distracting. It's irritating. It's even somewhat exhausting. Everywhere I look in my home there is something to be cleaned up. Not just cleaned, like scrubbing a sink or a sticky floor, but cleaned up, like the coffee table stacked with books and magazines I want to read (but which one do I start with? oh, screw it, I'll just go surf the web, and let the magazines stack up as they come in the mail.) Or the "spare" sofa that is stacked with mail I haven't felt like opening. Or the dining table covered with 2-3 weeks' worth of Sunday New York Timeses. Just looking around at a house that demands so much effort makes me feel tired.

And I'm tired of being tired in my home. I'm ready to have some open space for thinking. I may never be as neat and tidy as my mother or my mother-in-law. I'm okay with that. But I'd like to not be drained by my stuff.

So, beginning this week, I'll take steps each day to clean up. And I'll report about it here. And I really could benefit from your words of comfort and support in this scary adventure I'm about to begin.

Onward!

Comments

[hhw]

The website design really bugs me, but I know some folks (including dragonfall, who has written about this too) who find the strategies of Fly Lady very helpful.

[dampscribbler.livejournal.com]

Someone else's page had a link to that this morning. I checked it out; it looked familiar -- I may have visited there a couple of years ago. I surfed around a bit. A lot of what she has to say doesn't seem to apply to me, and I was ready to dismiss it as un-useful. Then I went for a cup of tea and found myself using the techniques she mentioned while waiting for the water to boil -- instead of just standing there or flipping around on the tv or running back to the computer, I emptied the dishwasher, refilled it (yep) and wiped down the sink and counter. All while making a cup of tea! Nifty!

So, I'll keep visiting her site. Though I refuse to wear tie-shoes in the house. Those are for outside only. I have a pair of Birks I wear in the house. They'll have to do.

Thanks for the reinforcement!

good luck!

[mousey1013.livejournal.com]

as a lifelong pack-rat, i know exactly how you feel. aside from going to school and back, i've only moved once, and stuff piles up. i'd really loved to be organized, but it's just clutter everywhere. my whole family is the same way.

it's awful that you've had such traumatic cleaning experiences -- enough that you'd equate cleaning with death! i think one reason for my cluttery tendencies is that i don't want to get rid of anything that defines me. who else would understand the significance of these mismatched salt and pepper shakers? (which my friend malia stole for me from an ihop, when we couldn't hang out because she had to see her father.) or this wilted corsage? (not from prom, but from the girl scouts' father-daughter dance.) it's like anything i throw out destroys not a piece of myself, but a piece of the person i used to me. and if i don't remember who i used to be, who will?

Re: good luck!

[dampscribbler.livejournal.com]

Oh, yes, I have exactly the same types of thoughts! "This stuff is me!" It feels so important to hang on, but I sometimes ask myself -- why??

I was talking about it a bit with my husband last night, and we both realized that the older something is, the longer I've had a thing, the harder it is for me to get rid of. I've been okay getting rid of "junk" these past 10 years, but stuff from college, high school, grade school -- whoosh! Those are the things that are really hard to get rid of. And I see now that there is at least one other person who feels very much the same way about 'things' as I do!

Thanks for understanding! It's nice to hear!

I like your stories about your things, too. Funny how even just a sentence can conjure so much love. That's why the things themselves have so much power, I guess.

[snakker.livejournal.com]

"Housekeeping" reminds me of Marilynne Robinson's book. Have you read it?

Teaching Walden for four years developed a fairly strong internal desire for minimalism, or at least simplification. The reality is that I'm too emotionally lazy to go through the boxes of stuff that are taking up far too much space.

Phooey, I'm probably just plain ol' lazy. You're giving me courage.

Just don't dump old postcards. My father and aunt were cleaning out my grandpa's house last fall and threw some postcards into the bin, which the estate sale guy plucked out and said, "I can sell these for ten bucks a piece." Justification for packratting...

[dampscribbler.livejournal.com]

heehee...like I need justification! :-)

I haven't read the book, just looked it up at the library (they have 4 copies) and on Amazon -- looks fascinating, thanks for the tip.

Emotionally lazy is an excuse that will fly with me. Cleaning definitely takes not only some physical stamina, but some emotional fortitude, as well.