Dear Marie Kondo,
I am a little bit scared of you and I think you have a serious compulsive disorder. CDO - That's Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder in alphabetical order. I know people like you. I may be related to people like you. And there's a part of me that wants to be like you. But that is just not going to happen.
You had me at the less is more thing... I really am at a place where I'm ready to simplify - that's at the heart of this whole renovation project we're doing. An intentional organization of my stuff. I do feel a little overwhelmed at the magnitude of bins and boxes stacked in storage right now so I get the lure of just getting rid of everything. But I would start over, I just know it. Besides, I've invested quite a lot of time and money collecting all this stuff. And there's a lot to be said for keeping things because of sentimentality. My sentimental stuff is pretty important. The memories attached to them are sweet. So, I feel like I'd be getting rid of my heritage if I got rid of Mama's wedding china - even though I don't ever use it. Know what I mean?
Now the origami underwear drawer is intriguing. I imagine my t-shirts would look pretty cool all rolled and folded. But it might make me want to buy more stuff since it takes up less room. I just read today how this is a great time to go to the Goodwill because people are Kondo-ing all over the place (wink, wink, Anita Kay) and I checked my watch to see how long til it closes. I'm all about the thrill of the hunt. A bargain gets me wagging like a bird dog at a dove convention. The fact that I'm still at my house writing this little essay shows superhuman restraint on my part. Besides, I Googled and they stay open til 8 tonight.
The part of Marie's method I may like most is the idea of talking to your stuff. That might provide a great excuse for those of us who carry on conversations with ourselves. "Of course, I'm not talking to myself... I'm telling my pashmina how much I appreciate her warm caress." But the day you catch me in the closet holding up a 20-year-old stretched out sweater telling it not to worry I am just sending it to a new home where it will be loved and treasured is the day you best go on ahead and get my padded room ready. Besides, I couldn't bring myself to lie like that. I've seen the pictures of those donated clothes that wind up in the landfill. It'd be like telling an Angus - just roll right up in this here chute, you're gonna love your new home. Yeah, right. That new home's gonna turn out to be a hamburger bun. If I do decide to talk to my clothes, I hope I'll at least be honest. "Hon, I'm not crazy about you, never have been, but you cover up my big rear end when I've hit the hot-doughnut sign too many times and I can't go out naked, so thank you, fat jeans. I will get rid of you, though, when I lose that 40 pounds I'm meaning to drop here before long so don't get too comfortable." But, again, if you see me doing that, just sign the papers. I'm already around the bend.
Where you really lost me, Marie, is with the books. Who in their right mind could live with only 30 books? Are you kidding me? I have 30 books on my bedside table sometimes. I have more than 30 cookbooks. I probably have 30 Bibles in my collection, too. And that doesn't count the hundreds of titles at my fingertips on the Kindle. Heck, I've still got my favorite textbooks from college. Who doesn't need a Constitutional Law book once in a while? Hold on a minute! I might ought to donate that one... to the US Congressional library. I think some of that crew could use a refresher course. But overall, I'm gonna say a 30-book limit is a no, Marie. Just no. No.
Hopefully, you've caught on that most of this little rant is tongue-in-cheek. All except the books - I mean that. I have absolutely nothing against being organized, and I realize it's something I desperately need more of in my life. It just strikes me a little comical how we hop on the latest craze and become disciples. Dear Marie is just the latest. I've bought my share of bins and labels and Sharpies along the way, hoping for order in my chaos.
Bottom line for me is this: Do I own my stuff or does my stuff own me? Is there something better I could be doing with my resources? Including my stuff? Francis Chan said in Crazy Love something to the effect that having lots of stuff isn't sinful, it's just silliness. (That's not a direct quote but I can't find my copy of the book right now and it's driving me nuts!!!) So, while I don't think I'll be chatting up my shoes anytime soon - or giving away my china, I do plan to make some serious choices about what to keep and what to part with. I've done some of that already during our two moves in the past two years. (What were we thinking?) There's more work to do, though, so let me know if you want to be on the e-mail notification for when I take a load to the Rescue Mission or Vintage Values (my personal favorite donation places). As if I have anything anybody would want!
Now, don't get all het up about me making fun of cute little Marie. I think she's adorable. And pretty darn smart. And, best of all, she's not touting Swedish Death Cleaning. That, my friends, is truly disturbing. Selah.
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