A Start

The kids come in from sledding, step out of their gear and leave it heaped. Snow pants, hats, mittens, gloves, and boots clutter the back hall.

Today, coming in from a trip to the grocery store (and with too many bags in hand),my foot tangled with a pink, woolly scarf. Attempting to free myself, I hopped across the floor on one foot. Then, losing my balance, I staggered, dropping cans of stewed tomatoes. Staring at the pile of sprawled groceries among the winter accessories, my blood boiled over the mess. Once the groceries had been taken care of, I thought about cleaning up the other stuff but what a waste of energy that would be. With mounds of fluffy snow flanking the driveway and covering the lawn, I knew it would only be a matter of hours before the kids would don the gear again and head out to sled down the hill on the side of the house—or before they would get the energy to pummel each other with perfectly packed snowballs. Outside, in the snow, their giggles echo through the naked trees, giving life to an otherwise slumbering world. Complaining out loud about the clutter in the back hall might wreck the winter wonderland mojo.

Besides, the snow gear is not the only clutter in the house. If I want to complain about “stuff,” I should probably start with my own. After all, I have an obsession with cardigans that rivals the infamous Imelda Marcos and her shoes. My closet is overloaded with sweaters. My closet is overloaded with lots of stuff if I force myself to honesty. And while I’m on the subject I should admit that the laundry room oozes with socks without mates. Closets, cabinets, and drawers everywhere in the house have become a dumping ground—a high class trash can.
Did you ever read the Shel Silverstein poem about Sarah Cynthia Slyvia Stout who would not take the garbage out? "It filled the can, it covered the floor, it cracked the window and blocked the door… At last the garbage reached so high that it finally touched the sky. And all her neighbors moved away. And none of her friends would come over to play."
I love that poem and I always think of it in the winter when I feel closed in and crowded by stuff.

When that happens, everything in the house feels as if the cup runneth over. Piles of papers, mail, and bills on my desk make me claustrophobic. And so, after the pink, woolly scarf issue this morning, I haphazardly began organizing and purging.
I tackled a few cabinets in the kitchen that yielded 7 glass flower vases, 4 ceramic serving platters, 9 medium-sized pillar candles, 3 mixing bowls, 1 tea set (Japanese style with the small, no-handled cups), and 9 plastic plates in primary colors.
I talked with Eric about our extensive dish collection. We have 6 patterns of casual dishes, all with service for 8! Needless to say, bowls and plates stacked in quantities of 48 takes up cabinet space and why can't we survive on 3 patterns? Eric likes to keep things. He's not with the program quite yet. The dishes stayed.

While unsuccessfully negotiating about the dishes, I cleaned out a drawer that is supposed to store homework supplies like pens and pencils, paper, scissors, and the like, but has become a catch-all for old tests, school mail, and broken crayons. It only took about ten minutes to trash the accumulated junk and to organize the needed items. I did the same in three bathrooms as I ran through my normal Sunday rounds to replenish toilet paper and swish the bowls with cleaner. I added a few decorative tissue box holders to my Goodwill loot and at the same time ditched an extra hair dryer and a light-up magnifying mirror.

On my way to the laundry room, I grabbed 9 cotton collared shirts from Andrew's closet (too small) and removed 8 cotton dresses from Adrienne's (some too small, and a few not her style--just taking up space and that's what I'm embarking on this project to avoid).

I spent the last two hours in my own closet. The good news is that I have five trash bags filled with jeans, sweaters, handbags, and workout clothes--all ready to go to the Goodwill, but the bad news is that I still have a very full closet. I'll return in a few weeks and try again.

Despite the fact that I had no plan and bounced from room to room,I feel good that I trimmed some fat--that I lightened the load here in the Hein house. But most importantly, that unlike Sarah Cynthia Sylvia Stout, I refuse to meet that awful fate of what happens to any nice girl who doesn't take the garbage out.