This year is especially exciting because we have a week off together, at home, and a lot of belongings still in boxes from our move in October of 2008. Wait, is that pathetic? Whatever, people! I never claimed to be on top of things around here. In fact, things are on top of us, literally: stored behind the wall in the attic. I dragged all the boxes, bags and storage totes around into categories the other day: paperwork, home decor, baby clothes in sizes other than current, and the ever growing To Be Organized pile. I can't promise we'll make it through the To Be Organized pile. In fact, I can probably promise that we won't. However, we will pull whatever crap we are willing to part with from all the various piles, and make a new pile: Salvation Army.
And--oh--that is the sweetest pile of them all. That pile, my friends, is the only pile who will whisper in my ear the words I long to hear from all my belongings: You will never need to worry about me again. No more cleaning, no more fixing, no more purchasing, no more anything. Just take that space in your head and offer it to the highest bidder honey, because I am not your problem anymore. And yes, by highest bidder, I mean free. Cause while daydreams don't pay dividends in cash, their rate of return is higher than anything else in my current portfolio (and that would be true even in an economic upturn). And if I can toss an outfit that once upon a time told a story about me that turned out not to be true, or a bunch of plastic toys that appear to be interchangeable and fail to light up my son's face like the morning sun to make more space for...well...it almost doesn't matter what the space is for, in the end. It's the making of the space that's here, in front of me, this week. It's the making of the space that I must do.
So this week I'll be all: Aarrgghh! as I shuffle and shift, poke and prod, pile and then finally, blissfully, toss.
And then I'll be all: Aaaahhhh!