Out With the Old!

I've heard the phrase "de-cluttering is good for the soul". I don't know where I heard it, but it is absolutely true. I have discovered that there is something extremely satisfying about parting with things. It's like the items were literally weighing me down, and every time another box of stuff goes out the door, I feel a little bit lighter. Over the past couple of years, I have been slowly de-cluttering, both my house and my life. It kind of kicked into high gear when I started watching Hoarders. A more terrifying show, I have never seen. In case you aren't familiar with the program, it focuses on individuals who suffer from an emotional disorder in which they are compelled to acquire and store items of little or no value. It always starts innocent enough, with a small stamp collection or something, and then (usually after some kind of traumatic life event), BOOM! It's floor-to-ceiling pillars of crap in every room, the toilet's busted, there's feces everywhere, and you're sleeping on a mountain of roach-infested garbage.

I don't want to sleep on garbage.

One day, shortly after having moved into our first home, my mother showed up at my door with a pile of boxes from my childhood and said, "Now that you have a house of your own, it's time to get all your stuff out of mine." I took all the boxes to the spare bedroom in my basement, stacked them, and shut the door. Three years later, I opened that door and found that they had multiplied into my very own personal hoard. Ack! What do I do? I don't want to be one of those people! There has GOT to be some stuff in here that I can part with! Of course the first things to go belonged to my husband. (Turns out it was much easier to give away things from his childhood than my own.) My husband is a paper hoarder. He had an entire file cabinet stuffed with pay-stubs, bank statements, and random legal documents from as far back as 1995. Hundreds of statements from accounts that no longer exist, rental agreements from old apartments,old parking tickets, and documents relating to jobs he had in high school. I purchased a shredder.

Not surprisingly, my husband freaked out. He'd spent a lifetime accumulating this bizarre paper stash, and was none too keen on my idea to simply destroy it. However, the little tiff we had over the paper hoard was nothing compared to the battle that ensued when I tried to put his old He-Man guys on Ebay, so I took a deep breath, and turned my attention to my own pile of boxes. After all, I had a lot more stuff than my husband did, so if I was going to be fair, a lot more of my own things would have to hit the curb than his. Time to quit harping on my spouse, and own up to the fact that it was mostly my things that were the problem at hand.

Over the next year, I slowly sifted through the mountain. I went through box after box of my childhood things. I found items that I didn't even recognize. That made them easy to part with. If I couldn't remember why I had saved a particular item, it went into the Give-Away pile. Things that had no sentimental value but possibly some cash value went into the Ebay pile, and of course quite a few things made their way into the Garbage pile. I'd saved newspaper clippings, sheet music, programs from sports events, and posters from all my theatrical productions in high school. I had trophies and stuffed animals, photographs and souvenirs of every size and shape. All my ceramic kitty cats went into the Give-Away pile, and a few of my childhood toys went up on Ebay. I threw out broken items that I finally admitted I would never fix, expired cosmetics, old glassware, random books I'd never again read, and I games I'd never again play. All the VHS and cassette tapes went into the Give-Away pile (save home movies and a couple of mix tapes made for me by friends), along with coats and shoes and "skinny clothes" which, even if they fit, would be out of style anyway. One day, I looked around and was surprised to see that the number of boxes in my hoard had dwindled to a manageable number. Most of what remained were photo albums, a few keepsakes, and important documents. The slow process of shredding the hundreds of ancient papers in my husband's broken file cabinet was complete, and all that remained were certification documents and tax forms. In a great show of support, he even let me throw out three years' worth of old Sports Illustrated magazines that he'd been keeping in a dresser drawer. My once terrifying Hoard Room now contained a guest bed, some actual furniture. Where there was once twenty sagging cardboard boxes, there were now just a handful of plastic storage bins, all neatly stacked and labeled. I had done it.

It's not the cleanest of rooms, by any means, but you can see the carpet, and at last it's more of a guest room than a dirty little secret. It still contains things that I could probably do away with, but I'm so proud of myself for the progress that I've made. Sometimes I go into that room and just look around and congratulate myself on coming this far. As a person who sees value in old things, it's been a bit of a challenge to part with aged items. However, I have learned that just because I've had something forever doesn't mean that I have to keep it. And it's ok to give things away, because if I saw the value in an item, someone else will, too. I've made a game of selling things on Ebay and craigslist. I'm not getting rich by any means, but it makes me happy to put something that was once important to me into the hands of a person who appreciates it, and making a couple dollars while I'm at it is icing on the cake. Truth be told, I've already started collecting new items for the house, reinvesting the dollars I've made selling my old items into new collectibles, but it's helped make my home my own. I've turned a bunch of My Little Ponys that spent twenty years in a box into an antique trunk and an old radio to decorate my bedroom. I put my old toys into the safekeeping of a person who will appreciate them. At the same time, I've added to the beauty of my home with things that make me smile, and isn't that the point? As the weight of the past slowly trickles out the door, I have room for a new and exciting future.

And just in time for garage-sale season. ;)

The First Day of the Rest of My Life

Most people hate Mondays. We dread them all weekend, we wake up groaning about them, and we grumble about them on Facebook all day long, seeking company in our misery from others who share our pain.

When I worked a regular 8-5:00 job, Monday through Friday, I hated Mondays too. Why? Because Monday signifies the point in the week at which you have the most remaining work hours until your next day off. It sucks knowing that there are now forty hours of productivity (or misery, whatever) between you and that Friday evening happy hour. However, when I chose to abandon the 8-5:00 lifestyle, Mondays took on a new meaning for me. The night-job life means that I work nights and weekends. I am routinely scheduled Friday nights, therefore Friday is really nothing to look forward to. If I'm not battling through my week just to get to Friday, my reasons for hating Monday simply melt away.

For me, Monday mornings are mostly calm. Quiet. After a long weekend of work, dealing with drunken customers, shouting over loud music, and trying to fit in all those things that I didn't manage to get accomplished during the week, Mondays are my breath of fresh air. To me, every Monday is a chance to start over. The perpetual Day 1.

Day 1 of the Diet: Struggling with health and weight is a constant for most people, and like most people, I want to look and feel my best while simultaneously (constantly) indulging myself in excessive food, beverage, and naps. Obviously, this does not work. And after a weekend of enjoying myself, Monday is always the day I mentally motivate myself to get back on track. Because Monday is the day with the most remaining days between me and the weekend, it represents a fresh start, and blank page. I can make this Monday the start of a healthier me.

Day 1 of the Exercise Plan: I'm no marathon-runner, but as a woman approaching middle age, I am well aware that my metabolism won't last forever, and it's important to include physical activity in my life. Every exercise program from Sweatin' to the Oldies to p90x has a Day 1.Why not make it today? Fifteen minutes on the elliptical in the morning, one hour of pole fitness in the evening, and a reasonably healthy menu in between. Boom.

Day 1 of the Housewife "Home" Tasks: Desperate housewives of the world! I have six guests coming to stay with me Friday night, and in order to make sure that they don't witness any embarrassing filth, I have *cough* a few chores that need to be taken care of before Friday. Picking up all the clutter, making sure the pillows are fluffed and the beds are clean-sheeted, stocking the fridge, etc. Since it's Monday, I have the maximum number of hours remaining in which to complete those tasks. (Cue the sound of a whip cracking. *whoop-pISH!!*)

Day 1 of the Housewife "Other" Tasks: I have bills to pay, mail to sort, stuff to drop off, packages to ship, Grandmas to visit, gifts to purchase, and household supplies to re-stock. And Lord knows those groceries won't shop for themselves. Luckily, it's Monday, so I have lots of time to squeeze my errands in before Friday, and get them all done without causing myself a panic attack.

Day 1 of Soul Improvement: Arguably the most important of all the Day 1's, this Monday is a chance for me to improve mySELF. Smile at more people instead of giving blank stares, or let an extra car into my lane. I should take a few minutes of my drive between jobs and call a friend just to say hi. Try to keep bitterness and venom out of my head and heart, and remember not to let something small ruin my day. Learn to let something small make my day instead.

A cup of coffee on Monday morning is possibly my favorite time of the week. In the world of the "Day Job" people, 10AM on a Monday might be the worst moment of the week. It's just about time for that fifteen-minute mid-morning break, in which (if you're lucky) you'll be able to run to the bathroom and hit the vending machine. Maaaaaybe check Facebook, but only if you do it on the toilet. (Multi-tasking is key.) Right now, my week seems endless, in a good way. I'm looking around at my messy house, knowing it has to be cleaned, and checking the clock because I know I have places to be, but hey. There's plenty of time to accomplish my weekly goals, because it's only Monday. It's literally the first day of the rest of my life.

And with a small, determined grin, she chugs the rest of her coffee, closes the laptop, and thinks to herself, "Go get 'em, Tiger."