The Wiff and I have lived in our house now for 11 years this month. That's a long time in my book. The longest I've lived in any one place was for 16 years (I still have dreams that take place at 70 Linwood St. It's always right there just under the surface). And so as you may have guessed, we've accumulated quite a bit of stuff. I used to like to remind the Wiff that when we moved in together all my worldly possessions fit into the back of my parents Hyundai Excel (including my bed which was strapped to the roof). Now if we were to move it would take a very large truck indeed. So what to do? It's time to purge some shit.
My mom used to go into fits of purging every now and then and just toss stuff out without really consulting anyone (like beloved stuffed animals or comic books). Our house was cluttered but always clean. We just seemed have a lot of stuff everywhere and then suddenly one day when everyone was out of the house, she'd flip a switch and throw stuff out. This is why I think I now have that tendency. It used to be much more prominant in my personality but I think but ever since the Wiff and I tried and failed to sell our house we kind of went into a, well I wouldn't call it a depression necessarily but perhaps a malaise? When we had the house up for sale we had to keep the place absolutely spotless at all times just in case the real estate broker called to let us know she was going to show it. We also had to strip it of any real personality so all our pictures and the more "funky" decorations had to be taken down. These all got boxed up and stored in the basement. I also took all my stupid little toys out of the little bedroom upstairs to make it look more presentable.
After it became apparent that no one wanted to buy our house, we had pulled it off the market but we didn't put all the stuff back right away. A lot of it still resides in those very same boxes in our basement. I'm talking 2 years now. Also since we didn't have to have the place looking like it was going to be in a photo shoot for Better Homes and Shitty Back Gardens it was allowed to revert to it's natural state of clean but cluttered. Plus there's all the stuff that we either aren't interested in anymore or just simply don't ever use in the basement and/or attic as well. If I'm honest about it, there's things there that I'm fairly certain we've actually NEVER used. We have boxes of old cassette and VHS tapes somewhere as well. It's just stuff. But since it's all (for the most part) neatly stacked away and out of sight, I was ok with it (as was the Wiff). Then we started watching the show "Hoarders".
Holy fuck. This show messed my shit up. Now I don't want to give the impression that we have a hoarding problem at all. I could not imagine the hell that these people on Hoarders live in. First of all, the subjects' obvious mental illness is really quite terrible but it was the very tangible physical evidence that I focused on. Meaning: there's piles of stuff everywhere. I literally wanted to become an instant Buddhist and just get renounce all worldly possessions (except my T.V. and maybe my PS3...I really like those. Oh, and maybe the cars..those were expensive. And I really like having the coffee maker. Hmm, maybe I don't need to renounce every everything). Watching this show awakened that dormant purge gene and all I could think about was organizing and minimizing the amount of thingies in the house.
On Saturday the Wiff and I started down the path by cleaning out the pantry cabinets. We're contemplating getting that room fixed up and I figured this would be a good way to promote my new "Let's throw shit out" agenda. Luckily the Wiff is smarter than me and suggested that we donate the stuff that's still good rather than renting a giant dumpster and just hurling everything into it. Fine. We'll do it your "sane" way or whatever. Hmph. The pantry is a pretty small space and there isn't much in the way of storage space but holy crap had we crammed a bunch of stuff in there. After all was said and done we ended up with 5 boxes for donation and only one that will be sent to the basement for storage (I know, I know...baby steps. Eventually we'll get the extra stuff to go away). The Wiff did a great job. It was harder for her than it was for me cuz for the most part the stuff in question were in her domain. I don't mean to make that sound like she "belongs in the kitchen" or any of that chauvinist bullshit, no I just mean that she's the chef of the house so these are all her tools. And goddamn if she didn't have a bunch of them.
Now all I can think about is what to tackle next. The coat closet? The back room in the basement? My tool area? The attic? There are plenty of places that need attention. The Great Post No-Sale of the House Depression has run its course. It's time to chuck shit into boxes and send 'em off to Salvation Army and/or Big Brother/Big Sister. Again, this is not to give the impression that our place is a mess. It simply isn't. But what we do have is a whole lot of shit that we don't need to keep around anymore. Especially if it's stuff that one of these charities can make some dough off of (mmmm, dangling preposition). "Why not have a yard sale then, Mark?" Oh silly reader. Don't you know by now that if you have a yard sale that people show up? I don't like people remember? This way is better me thinks.
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