21 Things

As a follow-up, one exercise I’m experimenting with, and like a lot so far, is (my heroine!) FlyLady’s suggestion of simply throwing 21 things out per week. (Oops, see it’s been upgraded to 27.)  What I think works so well about this is that I JUST focus on hunting (and gathering) things to throw out.  I’m not worried about where to put what, what still is needed, what not, just find THINGS TO THROW OUT.  And, suddenly, it’s like they’re lit up before my eyes.  The obviously empty box, expired food/medicine, tattered shoes, and more are gathered up.  There is still the issue of getting everything out the door, but simply zoning in is a great start.

Years ago, when I took Michelle Passoff’s class in New York City (and felt like I had found “my people” who struggle with these issues), she told us a story about being paid a decent amount of money and traveling a good distance to “consult” with a family about their overloaded garage.  They asked her what to do with the heaps and heaps of stuff just sitting in there.  Effectively, she said, they were paying her to simply tell them to throw their trash out. It was said with good humor, but her point (if I’m remembering correctly) is the same  — sometimes things just SIT, often for no good reason except that they become “unseen” and (sometimes literally) part of the furniture of a room.  I think the  bingo-like ransack through the house for things to throw out works because it shines a light on what’s just sitting and, in a rare concession that multi-tasking sometimes doesn’t work, becomes the sole task.  Worth a try.  I’d love to do it twice weekly, but am striving for just once for now.

“Just Throw It Out”

A few quick thoughts.  How often have I heard that phrase (not sure if I should put the quotes around the “just” or the whole phrase 😉 growing up when my natural tendencies to save things were much poo-poohed?  Often enough.  And, of course, it’s not that simple… not for some of us, at least.

One thought I’ve had of late is the difficulty it takes to actually get things that need recycling/donating/repurposing out the door.  At one point, when I did work with an organizer one of the most significant benefits was that at the end of our session she would load up her car with all the things that needed new destinations — Goodwill, battery recycling center, and more — and OFF IT WENT!  Goodbye!  It was simple, quick, painless (relatively) to me.  Going that last mile, literally, is often a huge obstacle to finally decluttering a room and getting rid of things.

Another thought, sometimes it’s just so obvious what needs to go out, but it doesn’t get done.  A friend came over recently with her 2-year-old. There was a rusty, discombobulated umbrella in a corner of our front porch.  Bean had no interest in it, but her son was like a magnet to its sharp edges and sticking-out spokes.  After looking around for a safe place to put this she asked, “Should I just throw it out?”  “Sure!” I said.  And boom, it was in our trash bin, after sitting on the porch, in an obviously un-redemptive-like state, for at least two months.  Something about this staggered me.

Mainly, it reminded me of how, often enough, post-trips, our suitcases have sat out for months on end, sometimes to the point a new trip starts edging onto the horizon so it seems there’s no point in putting them away anymore, and hey! even useful that they’re already out.  But other times the obviousness of something so clearly un-useful just SITTING OUT and OUT and OUT is astounding.  Why don’t these things get put away/thrown out?

As I’ve said, I need to reset my default button to “throw out” versus “save” which is always my natural inclination.  My other thought is that this points again, to feeling the space is “static” — I’m not in an active relationship with it, things sit and stagnate.  Of course, (this becomes a time issue), I can’t pick up everything every night, but letting things just “be” —for months on end — is a habit I’d like to change.

What to do about the obvious that just sits there?  How to reverse this pattern?

 

No Desk, No Wonder

I don’t know why it’s taken me almost two years to realize this but I simply do not have a functional desk in this new house.  I berate myself mightily for not doing my creative work, although I toil away at other projects, and wonder why I can’t get to it, somehow.

When we moved in here it was clear there was one peach of a room that would make a great study.  We went back and forth about who might have it, and finally decided (a big leap) we would attempt to share.  I felt more strongly that the Historian ought to have it since in our other apartment he used a portion of the living room and it was never great for him, while I had the whole second bedroom (tiny, by the way) as a study for myself.

The upshot — we still haven’t really unpacked that room and it looks like we belong on Hoarders if you peek in.  I use my desk for nothing but storing piles of books and random papers.  The Historian does use it as a working space, and (why didn’t I realize this sooner?) his towering piles o’mess spill off the edges of the desk, float around, and in general I’ve come to the conclusion I’ll never be able to have a clear thought in there for one minute.  I just don’t think my desire for order can ever co-exist with his natural oblivion to chaos.  Won’t work.

It’s a shame, in a way, but I’m not lamenting it.  Rather, I need a solution.  I was going to work in the guest room (quasi-storage right now) but have nixed the idea.  My ILS come out about twice a year and use the room, and while that’s not much, I can’t stand the idea of total disruption it means (which has already happened)… everything has to come down/out/be stored away, usually hastily, which means a mess down the line.  Plus, re-installing is an energy shift in a way I just don’t like.  Hard to explain, but the space feels different and I don’t want to lose time adjusting mentally or emotionally, nevermind setting up again.  Not a solution, period.

 

Finally, this leaves me with the upstairs bedroom that I share with husband.  There’s a small desk up there already, a nice picture window in front of it, a window unit (for a/c), and ceiling fans.  It makes sense, as well, as that’s where I sequester myself when a babysitter is here and yet I need to work.  It’s not pretty (yet) and one huge danger is that the toddler likes to climb onto the desk and pull things off, but a bit of re-arrangement might yet curb that.  As well, I need to go back to working at night and this feels more separate from H who might be watching TV below.

 

Why didn’t I think of this sooner is what haunts me? Had been using dining room table, in the tradition of so many women, but it just dawned on me that this seriously has an impact on the sense of solitude I need to really write, nevermind keep sets of papers preserved, nevermind sitting down to eat by pushing piles of papers to the side is something that has inflamed my sense of shame/blame with all of this for YEARS now.  A desk… it’s embarrassing that I don’t have a dedicated work space, it’s telling in some ways, but ways I don’t like to reveal… and sad.

Yin and Yang

As a follow-up to my previous post here’s another thought that’s been haunting me.  Both my husband and I grew up in “traditional” households.  Democratic/liberal politics, yes, but a very 50s-style division of labor.  What does that mean?  Much, much, as I know, but for this post, our mothers didn’t “work” outside the home and were solely in charge of the domestic sphere.  They both took pride in this, and speaking more for my own Mom, cared deeply about the house being “presentable” at all times.  For the Historian this meant a certain kind of opprobrium that was oppressive — don’t mess up this, don’t mess up that — a pristineness had to be preserved in case of guests. And this is something he is clear he never wants to repeat in our home, which I respect, although, again, I don’t think lack of clutter and aesthetic value has to oppress at all.

For me, my Mom is a natural decorator, again, enjoyed tending to our home almost like a fourth child, scheduling maintenance visits, learning and then doing what a house needs. As children do, I took much of this for granted until I learned how much keeping a house in healthy shape requires.

But more than that, it makes me realize, again, having been weaned on clean, unfettered spaces I LIKE that.  A lot!  And when I’ve lived alone, I’ve maintained a sense of that, as best I could.  

Here, in dual habitation (now with young child) it’s so much harder.  And harder yet, because I’ve seen that Sex in the City episode where Charlotte bites her tongue to not nag Harry about his ways.  I’ve said it often — I don’t want to bug the Historian about his mess, nor will I EVER clean up after him.  Not worth the time, not worth the gender stereotype.  The problem with this plan is that I’ve found now through five years, from time to time, it ENRAGES me.  To the point that I throw things, to the point that when I forsee a lifetime yet ahead (here’s hoping!) of “tolerating” our environment v. really loving it, I want to SCREAM!

So much is pent-up inside those ALL CAPS!  I know it.  But what to do?

Is it a feminist issue of sorts… (Atlantic article). Is it personal (Gretchin Rubin here).  Is it our own thing?

I did realize last fall that if I wanted things to change I would have to take charge.  The resentment I harbor with “just lowering my standards” was combusting too many times in a blind anger that I rarely experience.  But, although I can do the work, what I really, really, really don’t want is to see it UNDONE in no time at all.  And to never become the nag.

It feels like a conundrum, and I’d love ideas… waht do you do when there’s a fundamental mismatch between you and your spouse in how clean, how organized, how aesthetic you want the environment to be?  And are you angry at having to take this on and be the one to shepherd this?  I know I am, but I care more about it too, plain and simple.  Where/when does “doing it for my sake” trump the frustration I feel at having to spearhead this alone?  Wish I knew.

Post-Vacation Letdown

I saw someone do a quick FB post and the dangers of a late-summer vacation that ends butting itself right up against the return to school.  Tell me about it!  We got back just a day before the Historian had to start teaching classes.  It was rough… for him, and for me.

My quick thought here is that while we were away … staying in a blissfully beautiful hotel complex and then at my parents’ lovely, well-decorated, always spotlessly clean (and central air-conditioned!) abode I SO enjoyed this kind of calm aethetic order.  

Coming home to our clutter (albeit cleaner piles since our cleaning person came while we were absent) is hard.  Yes, it gives me “fresh eyes” to see what I want to change again, and that’s good, but it also makes me feel defeated at the amount of things still left to do, nevermind realizing the time it will take to do, and then maintain, things.

The takeaway that is most visceral to me, however… is that I’m SO much more relaxed, happy, and just outright GLAD to live in a clean space, an uncluttered space, a beautiful space.  I had that for a solid eight days while away, and it becomes more and more clear to me, upon return, how mess and disorder drain me, emotionally, and otherwise.  Again, a realization things need to change.  Again, a lot of wonder about how to do it.

Catching Up

Internet,

Again, the gaping gaps…! And yet more has changed in between them.  We’ve moved (great news) into a larger space, but, as ever, this has forced me once again to realize the huge extent of the clutter.  Even more exciting, however, is the arrival of our dear babe, now just ten months old.  It’s been a busy time, a whirlwind of new parenthood, excitement and exhaustion (ever hand in hand) and we’re still not sleeping through the night (collectively, of course).  But I am determined to again pick up this mantle and work towards clearing things out.

 
Small(er) goals this time, or so I say.  Truly, the hope is for 15-minute bursts each day, and keeping the daily clutter down.  More to post soon enough, but newer revelations have come to me about why this project still seems important.  In brief:

* Yesterday we had someone come and help with cleaning the house.  After she left I realized how much BETTER overall I feel being in a clean, decluttered space.

* I don’t want my child to grow up in chaos, not finding things, or feeling the constraints that clutter brings.

* We want to socialize more — a good goal — and I can’t sink back into that “CHAOS” or “Can’t Have Anyone Over Syndrome” as Flylady puts it.  Nor the mad “stash and dash” that can be a last-minute-before-the-doorbell-rings strategy but I know only causes more confusion later after you put your house on a “crash diet” for a fast cleanup.

* For the longest time I really, really through in striving to create an egalitarian marriage I needed to refuse to do more in the household/decorating/maintenance areas than my husband did.  I felt if I took this on I’d forever be carrying this burden.  Fin!  I’ve had to say.  Simply enough he doesn’t care about these things — and I do.  If I don’t take the lead they’ll NEVER get done and I’ve had several moments now when I realize how deeply angry this make me — not his resistance or indifference — that’s just the way he is.  But that I’ve lowered my standards to a place where I’ve ignored my own values.  Yes, it still makes me angry that I have to take this on, but I’d rather please myself and live in a way I like than ignore my own needs.  And, hopefully, try to goad him along.

* We need to financially declutter — worthy of a post in and of itself — but my worry about our collective head-in-sand about budgeting/wills/financial planning has compounded now that we have a child.

* For the fall — saying it here and now! — my three main goals will be:

Clothing/closet — including jewelry, accessories (shoes, bags, etc.) and ideally, cosmetics drawers

BOOKS! an endless subject here — but to comb through all of our shelves at least twice and feel good about everything remaining/that things are in order.  Nothing pains me more than looking for a book that I know I have, but just cannot find.  It gives me an ache — like I’m not caring for their souls properly.  Bibliophiles will know what I mean.

Mail system — this is close to being finished, but needs consistency and “beautification” — the best part — to get off the ground.  I had tried valiantly in the spring to get through our backlog of mail and couldn’t do it.  Husband took it over (rule of thumb — let him step up!) and now we’ve got something going that needs refinement, but is promising.  I’d like it to look better — since it’s in our front hall — but just keeping it going first is our top priority.

Of course, I want to add… baby’s room in too… but I think that will be an ongoing project for years.

Keep me accountable Internet — good to know there are so many out there who think about these things as well.

Back, But So Much Has Changed

Internet,

How long has it been?  Too long!  But so very much has changed.  I’m now married to the Historian, and made the shift from NorCal to SoCal.  There’s much I could say about the large geographical shifts — on both physical and emotional terrains — but I’ll come back to my focus about building a home, trying to declutter, and build myself to a next plateau.

After merging households, and trying to figure out who had more books, (it’s a draw), we’re still finding our way into household management.  After an initial foray into whittling down my belongings to fit into our space, and the one precious (but small) room I’m using for a study, I’ve relaxed into what I call “the drift,” meaning things are piling up and I’ve lost that initial, special view that you get when you are in a new place, again physical and otherwise.

So… my post is a start, a toe dipped back into trying to steer myself towards the kind of life I so want to have at home.  I’m hoping that clarity around the piles of paper and stuff will lead to clarity around other goals, wanting to entertain and simply enjoy the space more.  Making a home together in a way we’re still figuring out.  Internet, hope your encouragement or at least public display will draw me forward, ever closer to these goals.

Making Progress

Quick update…

The countdown is on!  I realize I left a gaping gap (redundant?) in my blog entries.  So, the short version: after about a year of long-distance dating the Historian proposed on July 20th and I said yes!  There’s really much to say about this Event, just like the very recent wedding, but want to try to keep this blog focused on the other effects that this change wreaks.

Before the grand proposal we had been talking about moving in together, mainly me moving down to So Cal, where he lives.  Again, much to write about, really, as I had to think long and hard about what it would mean to be to be married, after being single for so long and so identifying as a quirkyalone, fiercely independent woman, who really thought the Big White Dress and trip down the aisle just wouldn’t happen.

Much to say, and in some ways, it was the Historian who thought the commitment of marriage would be much better than just moving in together.  I began furiously reading a mini-cache of “I’m-a-feminist-getting-married-and-am-conflicted” literature, which I’m glad to report, is definitely out there (link to Kami Wycoff’s book).  While I don’t have doubts about wanting to be with the Historian, nevermind actually living in the same city at last, the concept of Marriage is a big one for me.

It seemed funny, in some ways, that I would have to struggle with it.  Both my parents and the Historian’s will celebrate their 45th anniversaries this fall, a coincidence that seemed like a wonderful omen.  But more than sharing the same number of years together, both sets seems to share genuinely happy relationships, even more importantly.  We toasted our parents at the wedding, and each said what a stellar example of marriage they provided — the bar is set, happily, quite high.  But for our generation, especially for women, I think, it’s different.  Again, a digression, but now, three weeks in, I do feel glad about it.  There’s an emotional shift that I don’t think I would have felt if we were just moving in together.  Nevermind, the astounding avalanche of gifts that have rained down upon us.

More to say, really, about how I now see that getting married serves as an organizing principle for society (at large).  I can now share his health insurance, people are comfortable in being able to categorize us (and indeed we ARE in a different category when we fill out forms and check the new box), there’s a general approval in the air as we announce ourselves as newlyweds.  Much to think about and to ponder, and I hope to write more about this soon enough.  But to the business now at hand — moving in!

I just got back from LA where the Historian and I bought a big, grown-up bed (no more futon doubles), checked out the new pad, and kissed at midnight with champagne to ring in a full year of new partnership ahead.  It was a quick trip, but good, to see my new spouse, and also the Love Nest (as I call it) and contemplate the change ahead and how to prepare.

The Historian moves Thursday, (as in tomorrow!) and I tried to help him pack.  We started to dismantle his tchotchkes and things hanging on the wall, which is a sad moment he had been resisting, and I realize I am here as well.

I’ll move either on Jan. 12th or 15th and this next ten days or so have to be a sprint of activity.  I’m still madly decluttering, throwing out, sorting, all with the help of my organizer, who is stellar.  I tried to tell H, as I could hear he was sad to deconstruct (literally and emotionally) the home he’s created and lived in for the last eight years, that often, for me, it’s the moment of parting that’s hard, excruciating even, but once it’s over, I find the outlook ahead to a new place, new energy, and positive change erases much of that pain.  I feel like I’m telling that to myself as much as to him, as I’ve loved this sweet apartment, the times I’ve spent here, and certainly, the Bay area itself.

But the Love Nest will be sweet too, or so I envision.  And even if LA is scary and I barely know anyone besides H there, making a life together is an inviting prospect.  So, all to say, tons of hard, physical work ahead in this next week and a half, but the emotional work of leaving is just as much on my mind.  I want to hold the vision of our new married life, which again, I think can only truly start once we live in the same city  in my mind and heart, and remember that’s what I’m going to, despite the pain of parting from my single life, sweet studio space, and all the growth and good times that took place here.

Back After SO Long

… and now a married woman! It’s hard to believe (still!) and barely two week out, but the Historian and I were wed on December 8th in a beautiful ceremony. There’s much to gush about… how wonderfully the dress turned out, the abundance of good feeling, how touched I was at how many relatives and friends attended… so much joy, more than I expected, all followed by a beach mini-moon that was just as idyllic as we hoped. But… that’s not really my focus here. Would love to say more about my sense of transition to married-hood from my single self, but should save that for another forum.

Now, in the liminal state of getting ready to move… after a few days off to let myself get regrounded (quite literally) now starting the deconstruction process only to begin the reconstruction project in the future Love Nest… what I’ve taken to calling our LA pad.

I’m finally working steadily with an organizer (my third) and I have to say she is by far and away the best! Deeply intuitive, amazingly efficient, disciplined but kind, I sense that she naturally senses much about the complexitiesand interrelationships between stuff and state of mind, the interior of the house and the interior of the person, and highly nuanced correlations, zings of correspondence, right and off-kilter angles of connection that I can only begin to have an inkling of. It’s hard work — physically and emotionally — and I don’t think I could go down this path without a guide. I feel very fortunate that we have the chance to work together and she is willing to give so much of her energy, experience, time, and amazing presence of mind.

To that end, I thought I’d record some of my newest revelations because I’m finding myself interested in all of this again. As I told the Historian, after months of trying to chip away at this project, despite its uphill work and sometimes tedium, nevermind emotional wringer effect, it actually feels good to me to have this be my main priority at last.

* Something has clicked in about how much happier and lighter I feel in my apartment while working at a clear desk (even just SEEING the clear desk when I walk in the door feels great). Before, towers of books and papers loomed on every side and I had quarantined my workspace to a tiny quadrant of my desk. It feels better, more airy, more capacious, more clear to simply have the SPACE available to work in. How could I have not seen this before (except that I literally couldn’t see the desk at all)?

* My organizer has also pointed out how counter to technology I’ve been working. Once she did, it seemed obvious in a million ways. I’m always a little bit anxious about the computer’s reliability, often printed because I didn’t trust it would save everything, accommodated the ridiculously faulty cord for over a year, endure a dinosaur-like speed connection, make do with my AOL disconnect that can’t seem to be fixed. Why do I just endure, accommodate, work around things that impede progress and speed (almost at every turn, I realize) with my centralmost tool?

It’s left me wondering how often I simply accommodate or tolerate other situations in my life… and what other comparisons there are to be made. It’s more than a little worrisome to muse about.

But on happier notes….

* I feel excited about decorating again, once unburied from my pounds (and mounds) of stuff. I love being in aesthetic spaces, always felt slightly ashamed of my own space “not being presentable” without being able to parse out where/why I felt that way. Was I not as clean a housekeeper as I felt I ought? As domestic as my mother suggests I should be? All imposed messages of feminine duty aside, I just plain like living in a cleaner, clearer, interestingly decorated house. But it wasn’t something I could really ever have with every space covered, surfaces that were impossible to dust, and a lack of clarity on multiple levels.

* My default is always set to save, and I have to change that. The organizer’s point that saving something just because it’s interesting is not a good enough filter is simply excellent. Resetting these set points will take time and effort, but it’s something I need to do to maintain greater focus, not only with papers, but with projects, commitments, and choices overall.

* Her mention that there is an anxiety, an uncomfortableness, pain even, in letting go of things, not keeping everything, and then throwing things out is hard to hear, but I can tell is absolutely right. Harder still to experience it. For me, taking bags of books into a bookstore is like abandoning children… books, I think, are for me the the hardest of all to let go. But her logic that there is only so much shelf space in a room, or time to read, is exactly right. And that culling and focusing on what I want to read makes absolute sense, as does alleviating or relieving the unspoken, yet felt, pressure of pounds of material waiting to be read lying around.

* Realizing that if I throw away a magazine with an article unread it won’t kill me felt like a revelation, crazy as that sounds. A lot of dealing with stuff is irrational, (I’ve long since accepted that), and the emotional ripples are confusing. Some strain of bibliomania, attachment to print, desire to be educated or informed (or I don’t know what any more) made it very difficult for me to throw out unread periodicals. Accepting the pain of that moment is something that I need to get better at… because, as I can now see… it’s clear that within days a new replacement will come in the mail and that magazine will also have a whole new host of interesting articles.

I haven’t yet cracked the seal on my new rolls of packing tape, and as the Historian has said, he doesn’t yet want to see the boxes come out as we string along these last few days in our separate places. But despite the pain of leaving, I feel like I’m doing very important, even crucial work. I’m still semi-in denial about leaving my sweet apartment and the dear neighbors that have so made this space a home, nevermind friends in the Bay area, for the unknowns of LA, but I also do feel an invisible string tugging at me every time I look at my wedding band and I have the strong sense that my married life will only truly begin once the Historian and I are at last co-habitating in the same city. Marriage seems like an adventure to me, and right now I’m eager to begin our journey together. Now that we’ve crossed the threshhold in so many symbolic ways, it’s time to cross the actual one.

Back in Order

Ach! So overdue! I feel like I’ve too long neglected this blog. And the apartment. But it has been a six-week whirlwind of summer travel. Was at Yaddo for almost three blessed weeks, NJ (with my brother’s family) a few days prior, then Miami (my hometown) with parents and the Historian (who came for part of the visit) for almost a week more. All told, away from Berkeley for about a month. Was back for about ten just barely recuperating days (and straight back to work) before the Historian came to visit and we went (for a b-day treat! so nice) to Half-Moon Bay, so more micro-packing and unpacking, repacking and unpacking once again. Then, the following weekend (last) I was off to the National Women’s Studies Conference outside Chicago for their annual meeting. It was great, but I could tell how reluctant I felt to travel once more, connecting flights, new time zone, shoes off at the checkpoint, groggy late-night arrivals and departures.

I really do love to travel, but have hit the saturation point. And I want to use the summer to settle in and get my own work done!

Another adventure has been the drama around whether or not my summer class would hit its minimum and “make” as we say in academe or be cancelled. It just squeaked by, so now I’ve finished week two of teaching, but this also led to a flurry (not over) of sudden preparation.

So, all to say there’s been a lack of steady focus in my life, and lack of time at home to work on these projects. But I’m ready to get back. Step one was to run an ad on CL for an organizer. I liked the woman I worked with very much, but have to admit I just can’t afford a professional organizer’s rate right now (even modified ones). I posted Monday (day after arrival back) and have been amazed at the wonderful responses pouring in. So many talented people out there, or so it seems. It will be hard to winnow it down. But having someone to help me down this path seems key, and a way to build structured decluttering time into my schedule.

One other thought I’ve had of late (as my b-day in late June carried me over into a new decade threshhold) was that I want to have an apartment which is beautifully presented to others — I enjoy decorating, living in an aesthetic space, the joy of coming home to an environment which is nourishing and others can feel comfortable in too. I’ll never want to do a lot of cleaning, and have to remember creating that environment takes time, but something about realizing that’s a goal to work towards seems helpful.

Meanwhile, looks like moving is on the back burner, at least until mid-fall, which gives some more time. But I’d still love to make the kitchen area, all BOOKS (!), closets and attendant stashes of jewelry, coats, etc. a goal for summer’s end. Would love to add in boxes stashed in landlord’s attic, but that might be overly optimistic. But goal-setting always seems good to me. Now acting on it is the next step. For this weekend: trying to focus in on interviewing organizers, taxes (yes, still) and getting things up off the floor.
And thinking about more steady progress for the next six weeks at least.