I'm Going to Get Organized One of These Days

My friend Katie is normally very docile. No one would ever guess she has a destructive streak. Yet, over the past month she has killed two paper shredders. Well, maybe “killed” is too strong a word. She didn’t throw them out a window in a fit of temper. She simply burned out their motors by overfeeding them bank statements and receipts she has been saving for over thirty years. Why the decision to get rid of these papers now? Well, I guess she finally realized, for example, that she no longer needs proof of purchase to support a warranty that expired in 1972 for an appliance that died in 1975.

Sadly, even after sending the afore-mentioned shredders to landfill hell, Katie has barely made a dent in her stack of obsolete documents. She may finish the job in another year or two, if she sticks with it at least three hours a day. However, then she’ll face the even more formidable task of cleaning out her cellar and attic — places I have been banned from ever entering, so I have no first-hand knowledge of what’s there.

However, I’ve heard rumors that above and below the impeccable living areas of Katie’s lovely home lurk mountains of detritus that have accumulated over the years — including, for one thing, a huge, ancient gas range that is broken beyond repair. But its condition is irrelevant because Katie’s kitchen is electric and has no gas connection. So why is she keeping it? Because it belonged to her great-grandmother who died when Katie was two. Sentimental to a fault, Katie is emotionally incapable of throwing out anything ever owned or given to her by a loved one. In some ways, I have the opposite problem. Because I live in a condo — with no cellar, attic or other storage space — I’m sometimes too quick to discard things. (I sure wish I had kept that receipt for my Ipod which met its demise prematurely. And why did I give away that perfectly good desk lamp? I could use it now that I have a desk.)

My closets, on the other hand, are overstuffed with stuff — sleeveless shirts and dresses I can’t wear any more because my arms are no longer fit for public view … shorts and bathing suits I’ll never wear again (guess why?) … a dozen pairs of high-heeled shoes which my hip replacement surgeon put on my list of permanent no-nos … and more. Much more. I know I should get rid of them all. But somehow I can’t. It would be like finally saying goodbye to my youth. And, despite what my mirrors tell me, I’m just not ready to do that yet.

At least I’m not like those hoarders I read about or see on TV. I can walk through all my rooms without having to maneuver around toppling heaps of old newspapers, magazines and assorted bric-a-brac. I can sit on all my chairs and sofas; and my table and counter tops are pristinely clear. But please don’t open that file cabinet or my dresser drawers! I really am going to clean them out. Some day. After I conduct a search and destroy raid on my refrigerator and pantry and I trash all the expired items hiding there. (It can’t possibly be six months since I bought those eggs, can it?)

Fortunately, thanks to my computer, last month I was able to toss out my five thousand photo slides, the dozens of trays I had stored them in, and the broken projector that I’ve been meaning to get fixed for the last ten years. Yep, it was a humongous job, but I finally scanned all those slides and saved them on my hard drive (and on CDs, in case my computer crashes). But now what do I do about my nineteen huge albums of prints, dating back to the '40s — the 1840s, that is. No! Not pictures of me back then, but faded sepias of unidentified ancestors. Why, oh why am I saving them?

Both Katie and I should learn a lesson from our friend Jane, who could teach PhD classes in minimalism. You can actually walk into Jane’s closets — and they’re not walk-in closets. One day last week, she asked if I had an extra postage stamp. I tried to give her two. “No, she said, “I need only one right now.” I suggested she might have something else to mail in a couple of days. “Then I’ll go to the post office,” said she. “I don’t want the clutter.” A postage stamp!! Clutter???

I sure hope Jane never visits Katie’s cellar.

Rose Mula's most recent book,
The Beautiful People and Other Aggravations, by Rose Madeline Mula, is now available at your favorite bookstore, through Amazon.com and other online bookstores, and through Pelican Publishing (800-843-1724), as is her previous book, If These Are Laugh Lines, I'm Having Way Too Much Fun.

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I'm Going to Get Organized One of These Days

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