Still tidying up

by missmaudy

I’m beginning to realise that for someone such as my good self, I am not going to reach a point with KonMari Method where I can sit back and say “Yep. Done now.” any tine soonly. In fact, possibly ever. For starters, I live with three other people, and I work full time, so it’s not just *my* crap, it’s four people’s crap; and time is something I don’t have a lot of. I still have to do all the housework stuff that’s not cleaning and ironing (I outsource that bit) and buy food and all that palaver. We don’t have the space for putting everything in a giant pile for however long it will take me to go through it, either, so I am forced to do things in smaller chunks than is probably optimal.

While I am definitely on the KonMari Train, I’m not taking the Bullet Train. I’m on the stopping all stations go back to go forward definitely taking the scenic route train, which has the odd trip down into a siding for a bit of a detour.  So far, I have dealt with my clothes (twice through properly, plus odd picking), books and probably 50% of paper. I have now entered the carriage on the Slow Train that’s clearly labelled  “Crap” (technically, it’s called ‘komono’, which I am pretty sure is actually Japanese for crap.) Now, Crap at my house is the shit that’s shoved in every single fucking corner of every room of the house. Some of it is even mine (looking at you, side table with my journaling stuff and my crochet and hey there’s “Spark Joy”). There is rather a lot of it. I’m glad I started on the other shit first, because hello – Crap is fucking daunting (and making me very fucking SWEARY!!!!) Rather than working by category like I am supposed to (I am SUCH a rebel – and honestly, I find crap is something that needs to be dealt with in small small doses), I’ve got a bit of a list of crap locations based on what shits me the most and I am working through it. The list keeps growing, but things are getting crossed off – and Other People have noticed that one can just put ones hand into the drawer where all the pens live and {gasp} find a fucking pen when you want it.

This is quite the miracle, because I swear that before I tidied that drawer, we had NO pens, NO pencils, NO calculators, NO rubbers and definitely NO rulers.  Prior to going through it and removing  toy cars, nerf gun bullets, several marbles, assorted lanyards, eleventy bazillion glue sticks and who knows what else, I bought a packet of ten ballpoint pens and a packet of pencils and a couple more erasers because homework cannot be done without them. I could have saved myself $10 at Officeworks because yeah – underneath all the Crap that was shoved in the damn drawer – more pens,pencils, rubbers, calculators and rulers than you can poke a stick at. It’s all nicely sorted into appropriately sized boxes (Reject Shop gift boxes for the win – under $6 and I used the box lids in another cupboard!) I also need to back away from the Kikki.K pens. Bag of rubbish from two drawers. Ahem.

Then I embarked on the top of my wardrobe – there are three main categories of stuff in my wardrobe (aside from clothes – der):

  1. General crap I’ve shoved in the wardrobe to deal with later
  2. Archive-y stuff
  3. Sentimental hoo-ha

Now, the archive-y stuff is things like a 150+ year old photo album full of pictures of Ye Olde Dead Uns. Some of whom I’ve identified, most of whom… not so much. Hence my desire to go through some slightly more recent (like, you know, 50 – 70 year old pictures) with people who were alive when they were taken. And a clock. It’s old. It’s been painted poo brown and needs restoring. I need to find someone to do it (while it don’t do much for me, it does spark joy for other members of the household). Also, there may or may not be a couple of old journals that I’ve filed under the category “archive”. (They funny as fuck. Teenage and twenty-something girls are weird. It’s all dating pre-mobile phone. Lordy. The angst level is positively baronial. And I’ve actually toned down with the swears. No. I have. I don’t pepper my prose with c words any more.)

As I mentioned well above, there’s not a chance in hell that this train will ever reach its destination – because seriously, Joy is transient, and stuff you love right now will undoubtedly shit you later on (just look at old pictures of yourself – the really old ones when you’re feeling hip and totes funky and all in your best outfit. While the picture will spark joy (of the tears of laughter kind), the outfit itself? Eh, not so much. And if you think about it – you get yourself all minimalist now, and never go through anything again – up to your armpits in komono again before you know it. And nerf gun bullets.

Prime example of transient joy inducing clothing – I’ve just released the last FOUR out of four t-shirts I bought.

  1. Shirt #1 – A case of Needs Must – I desperately needed a white top to wear to a meeting because I forgot the ironing fairy wouldn’t get back in time for me to use one I already had. I bought one, and I was suss on it from the start. I was right, it didn’t wash well, and even being nice to it, it lost its shape by the third wash. Gone.
  2. Shirt #2 and #3 – This time, it was a case of inappropriate packing. I packed for the weather at home, not at my destination. I needed short sleeves. I grabbed two t-shirts in my size, tried them on and eh, they’ll do. Except I loathed the cut of both of them and spent the entire time I wore them picking at them. Gone.
  3. Shirt #4. I know not what I was thinking. It was a cranky purchase, I think. The fabric is shit, it has the same cut as #2 and#3 (which I loathe) and the colour is not flattering. It’s a beige-y pale blue. Permission granted to evict.

So, yeah – still need two white t-shirts. And I am going to make damn sure that whatever I buy fucking well sparks something that’s not “it’ll do” before I buy anything new. We’re embarking on some kind of epic budget shit thing starting April and I don’t reckon spending $100 on shirts to donate to the op shop three months later is really going to be an awesome line item. I tell you what, that winter coat I need will be a very discerning purchase.