Although one would never guess (by the snow outside), it is almost May. Nevertheless, although I’m not one for embracing stereotypical rituals or terminology, I decided a week ago I would begin house cleaning—in the Spring.
Despite the enormity of the task, ridding our home of one garbage-bag-full of non-essential clutter per week, was a promising start. Our only child is a teen now, but if you explored our basement, you might assume we were the Brady Bunch, or perhaps Toys “R” Us executives, pilfering the business before it went into receivership.
We bought that much.
And while I’ve managed to give items away to family and friends, nary a dent had been made over the years. At last count, we had six bins full of toys, games and crafts—not including enough stuffed animals to fill the fat-man’s sleigh twice over. Birthdays, holidays, and let’s face it—every visit to the Mall, added to the exorbitant collection, one credit card swipe at a time.
But it’s a parent’s prerogative to spoil.
To a degree.
Years later, to amend for our weak-parenting transgressions, it became time to donate, recycle, and maybe, if I have time, auction a few collectibles. Keeping in mind the odd memento will be preserved and cherished, some for nostalgia sake, some to pass down to new generations, I was hopeful the accumulative bulk would evaporate seamlessly.
But like the disclaimer says; Your results may vary.
My two supervisors (wife and daughter), like Roman Emperors with their thumbs up/thumbs down approach to my sorting technique, made me feel like a one-armed Gladiator with his shoelaces tied together.
Yesterday, after an hour of sorting, I glanced at the ‘keep’ pile and became despondent—crestfallen even. While I managed to fill two bags for Goodwill, when it was time to repack the ‘keep’ pile, the cold hard truth of my stretch-goal, became reality.
I hadn’t de-cluttered at all.
I’d simply re-cluttered.
Cherished keepsakes 1 – Mike zero.
We need a bigger house.
Until next time.