If clutter truly is decisions delayed, I’d better start making up my mind.
My house is giving me a case of purge fever. I want to go back seven years, to the last time I was in control, that one brief day. I had moved from California to Colorado, and put my house on a major diet. My mover was charging by cargo weight, which was more motivating than my 20-year reunion.
I lost 1 ton. Besides asking, “Do I want this? Do I need this?’ I also asked, “Do I want to pay to ship it?” No! Toss it. I’d recommend this diet to anyone.
When I moved into my new house, I felt as if I’d just returned from one of those fat farms that celebrities used to go to, where they served hummingbird wings under glass and poached air on lettuce leaves. I felt lighter and also, well, virtuous. Every cupboard, closet, shelf and drawer was just as tidy and organized as a button.
Then life continued. The kids outgrew their rollerblades. The books checked in but never checked out. Our videos had videos. Our den closet looked like the board- game aisle at Toys “R” Us. And our cupboards had this curse: I would close the door on a perfectly organized cupboard and then, at night, the contents would dance around as if they were in some nightclub and invite friends in. I’d later open the door to find twice as much stuff and a mess. The same thing started happening in my kids’ rooms, and in my office.
“It’s All Too Much!” I silently screamed the name of that best-selling book by organizing guru Peter Walsh, who also hosts “Enough Already!” a new Oprah Winfrey Network TV show. Short of having Walsh over, I did the next best thing.
I got him on the phone and told him my moving story.
“Moving is a great time to lighten up,” he said. “Movers tell me that 60 percent of the time the cost of the move exceeds the cost of the contents. Even if you’re not moving, sort as if you are.”
From there, our conversation turned into therapy.
“But what if I get rid of stuff I will want later?”
“You will! It’s a line call. Assume you’re a competent, rational person, making a decision based on information you have. If you mess up, so what? So you have to replace it, but that will happen a lot less than you think.”
“How do I separate what goes from what stays?”
“If you focus on the stuff, you will never get organized. Focus on the space, and what you want from it. The absolute litmus test is this: Does the item help create the vision I have for this space? For instance, people say they want their master bedroom to be serene, attractive and romantic, then put a computer in there. Uh-uh.”
“But I’m an orderly person. How did I get into this mess?”
“People have two kinds of clutter: Memory clutter, things that remind them of a special time, place or achievement, and I-might-need-it- clutter, because they fear being caught short.”
“I have both.”
He promises to express mail me a copy of his latest book, “Lighten Up” (Simon & Schuster, Dec. 2010). Then he delivers the harsh truth:
“If you don’t create the space you want, nobody else will.”
Syndicated columnist and speaker Marni Jameson lives in Castle Rock. She is the author of “House of Havoc” and “The House Always Wins” (Da Capo Press). Contact her through marnijameson.com.
Move it on out
Now, I know all the standard decluttering advice. If you haven’t worn it in a year . . . Be sure everything has a home. . . . Eliminate duplicates . . . blah, blah, blah. But I needed more than generalizations. I needed specific advice, by category. So I threw my challenge areas at organizing expert asked Peter Walsh and got these clutter-cutting maxims:
Clothes. Keep only three kinds: Those that fit now, that you look great in and those that garner compliments. All wish clothes must go. They’re just mocking you.
Collections. The line between collections and clutter is razor thin.
Books. These are highly emotional. People think if they own the book, they own the knowledge. But ask yourself: Are you ever going to read the book again? If not, let go. Today we have e-books, the library and this thing called the Internet.
Videos. Good grief! It’s 2011. Throw them in the trash.
Office files. Set a limit for how much room old project notes can consume. Have a file bin that holds, say, 30 files. When you get to 31, one must go. Create zones and stay within your boundaries.
Board games. Unless you play them all, pick five or 10 favorites, donate the rest.”If one day you feel like playing Twister, but you gave it away, ah well, you might have to play Clue.”
Bathroom products. My daughters have enough lotions, potions, bottles and balms to supply a sorority house, I tell him. That’s because people don’t buy products, Walsh says, they buy promises. Households are filled with unfulfilled promises. Bag up yours and donate them to a women’s shelter.
Sports equipment. Give each kid a large box. He or she can keep as much as will fill the box and must donate the rest. Do the same with tools. Give Joe husband a box, agree on a finite amount, then pay what’s left forward.
Tchotchkes. Does the item give you joy and fit with your vision for the space? If not, out. Evolve!
