Messy Is What Messy Does.
Now, does that make sense or…no ?
I am a Messy Marvin.
My home is not at all as I fondly pictured it would look like whence I was a child.
I really had no reality at that time. I was picked up after for the most part. Every once in a while I was dolloped into my room for a spell to meander through my collected things and discard the nonsense.
Truth be told, it was almost all nonsense and to make more nonsense of it all, I kept a lot of it. I usually started out with the action plan: Dump and Go! Which after an hour became: This is Your Life.
I lingered over bits of paper treasures and memory joggers that led me to being the rattiest of packers or the packiest of ratters. How doeth one becometh unpackrateth?
This is a life undertaking that I have assumed for well, let’s be honest, all my life.
Why am I this way? I don’t know? Ha Ha Ha! I soul search this question to myself, daily I’m gonna say. How is it that one person can toss and one cannot? I have, with liberality and high freedom, tossed an undesired boyfriend from my life without a moment of hesitation, but the love poem he wrote me I have buried in a box in my basement??? (I question myself.) Which, if I locate, on one of those days I have absolutely nothing better to do than unearth my trove of cardboard to the light of day breath I will throw away.
Another example of my packratitis: I have handmade wooden chairs. I did not handmake them. My father’s friend’s father handmade them along with a healthy tavola. The whole three piece set he made. One of the chairs broke. I have a crazy notion everything can be fixed. I think this chair can be mended, just not by me, I’ve tried. I want to throw the chair out, but then what is one chair and a table? Am I an Eastern European immigrant or something sitting in a half sunlit room, waiting for word, drinking vodka from a dirty juice glass? Come On! A table needs two chairs. So, what do I do? I tried to get the chair fixed and sent a foto to these wood extremist furniture guys. They were like offended. Go figure. The wood on these chairs is beautiful and like no wood I usually see. The handiwork he put into making these–just exquisite in my eyes, because I can’t even mend the chair let alone make the chair. Then I think, “His own family gives two craps and gave the set to you, get over it.” See the struggle? I put the mental into verbal. One, two, three. Toss. I can do it, right?
In the last sixteen years I have moved seven times. That translates mathematically into moving every 2.28571428571428……..years. One would hopefully derive from the math that moving that often would hypothetically mean one would be low on the totem pole for stuff. One would hypothetically conclude that moving stuff about every two and a half years that things would vaporize and a suitcase and a box of essentials would suffice. Woe es me, por favor. Breathing in, I have more stuff now than I think I have ever had in my life. Praise God for the blessings, help me spread them out to others!
I do give stuff away, but crap is like a feral cat and stuff just keeps coming back to find me. I really just don’t want to find the time. I mean, here I am typing out my thoughts instead of dealing with the cargo load at the dock. I actually will find things to do even when I planned to go through it. I will jog ten miles before going down there. It’s true, I always ask runners what they are running away from or running to. I am running away from a heap of crap and back to the heap of crap.
Often I get those helpers who wanna help. Oh I wanna help you…sob, sob, sob. I’m not a hoarder. I am just deeply unorganized and have a bad memory. So finding something that helps me remember something from the past is nice. Otherwise, I have probably forgot. Somethings I need to forget! But back to the helpers. If I were to take a helper person into my schtuff and droll over it they would laugh at me. They would find it so absurd. I can’t take the ridicule. I am a sensitive person that is why I keep the stuff. I want to know that I meant something to someone and they meant something to me, whether they are in my life any longer. I want to think about things that I didn’t get as long to think about at the time. I may have time to think about them now and think about them differently. Maybe with a fresh heart and mind. I want to see the things I didn’t see when they were happening. It all just goes by so fast. Maybe, for some they don’t care and they just throw it in the trash. I do care, is that wrong? Is that bad? Sometimes I think it is. Nuture the people, not the things. I tell myself.
I am listening to the Marie Kondo book, the first one. It is helpful. Since I am a novice I need the help from the outside. Just not someone standing over my shoulder. I recommend it. Just for the sake of guidance for those who don’t know how to organize. This is an ongoing life effort. I will write more. I guess I am figuring out why I am in the Rat Pack, not the cool one.