But if you don’t get my humor by now, there is something wrong.
Your offense-o-meter should really be turned to mute by now.
Or just turned off.
Yes, that would be better. If you know me at all, you know I like to throw crap away.
If you know me really well, you know January is like my hunting season.
That is if I hunted.
Anyway, as much as I bitch and moan about winter I do love the whole starting over and clean slate mentality that January brings. So this whole “Konmari method” is really starting to grow on me.
Of course in true Kari fashion, everyone was reading the book that started this trend last year.
This chick, Marie Kondo, wrote a tome called “The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up” and apparently it caused a revolution.
But this was my first reaction while everyone was tripping over each other to go out and purchase her bestseller: WHY WOULD I BUY ANOTHER OBJECT?
TO TELL ME TO GET RID OF MY OBJECTS??So I did what I do best: I googled it.
Kind of a half-assed Marie Kondo version of cleaning up my act.
Not that my act needed much cleaning up because for the most part I don’t really like clutter.
But this method was different because there were rules.
Like, I needed to have conversations with my belongings.
Ask them if they “brought me joy”.
I have never had discussions with my things before.
What if I bring them joy?
How will I know this?
WHAT IF THEY ARE SILENTLY TRYING TO SEND ME A SIGNAL??She also requires that we organize by category, not by room.
So if you decide that this is the day that every colander in your house that isn’t in use is going to be “voted off the island”, then you need to vote every single colander in your entire home off the island.
Not just those in your kitchen.
Why you would keep a colander anywhere than in your kitchen is your business but seriously, you probably need Marie more than me.
The truth is, I don’t agree with Marie’s technique because as someone who is generally pretty organized on the whole, I don’t play like that.
I organize one room at a time.
I enter like a blond bulldozer, taking down names and not taking no for an answer because I don’t really get emotionally attached to items in my home.
With the exception of my family members.
Of course, there are other exceptions: items that the children have made for us, sentimental items that mean something to my husband and me, photos and albums, old CDs from the 80s and 90s. THAT HYSTERIA CD IS GON’ BE WORTH A FORTUNE SOMEDAY.
We all have our little “things” we can’t give away but for the most part, I can say bye-bye to most things.
I have to say, I did start small.
I warmed up with a little junk mail removal.
That felt good.
So in my quest to KonMari my home this first month of the year, I hit the most dreaded part of our home as it pertains to storage: our basement.
Or as I like to call it: the place where dreams go to die.
Okay, so apparently I do get emotionally attached to items.
I don’t know what to do with that information.
But I bet you will.
In the comment section.
You can almost smell hopelessness, can’t you?
And yes that’s a metal goat.
My husband’s tool area was so bad I found lots of fun things in here that had nothing to do with tools.
Apparently, he is emotionally attached to tools.
Use that however you like.
So I rolled up my sleeves, put on the Pandora radio and got to work.
These are all lids to Rubbermaid storage without a mate.
HOW DOES THAT EVEN HAPPEN??
I made a pile of items I was donating to the Salvation Army.
This helps a lot in the organizing process for me.
Piles to donate, throw away and anything I keep, I immediately find a place otherwise it will end up in the place where dreams go to die.
Here it is essentially done.
I know it isn’t one of those Pinterest worthy pictures but I am getting really tired of the constant perfection of blogs.
This is reality.
The vacuum sucked up lots of dead bugs because where dreams go to die.
Rest in peace little bugs.
And yes, the goat made the cut.
The tool area looks so much better.
Not perfect but he still has to find stuff so I left it in the condition that he is used to working with.
The moral of this story is that I had trouble talking to my belongings.
It was as I was talking to my gravy boat one afternoon when my youngest daughter said to me, “are you okay, mommy?” , that I realized I had sacrificed enough for Kon and Mari.
Besides, winter is long.
Why rush into doing all the KonMari’ing at the beginning.
I need to pace myself.
Now does anyone wanna load my car for me?