As the last of the confetti was swept from the street, January’s dawn bombarded us with scads of diet programs, gym membership offers and products promising to erase last month’s frolicking. Marketers scream solutions, aware that the “lose weight”declaration is at the top of most resolution lists.
Once, resolutions were made to the gods in hopes that they would grant favors like a good harvest in return. Today, running a close second to losing twenty pounds, our collective January pledge is a need for order and organization perhaps to fit in all the “stuff”we acquired last month. With our midnight celebration quickly becoming as distant a memory as last summer’s lazy-hazy-days, and even though most resolutions won’t
make it into February, most of us still feel the need to promise to do something better and many will resolve to get organized.
Even as I resolve not to resolve, suggestions arrive in the mail (snail and electronic), some scream from January magazine covers, and still others shame from cable’s ever expanding home improvement/homescaping scene promising to improve my life with newly decorated and organized spaces.
Pinterest should just dedicate a tab to organization this month. Those OCD organizers stress me out. Like the recipes I save and will never make, I save those immaculate ideas for later.
A sales brochure stuffed into my newspaper (yes, we still get a newspaper delivered) reminds me about my inability to stack, arrange, or coordinate my ornaments, shoes, stuff, or my life in such a way as to appease the organization gods.
I built raised beds last fall for next spring’s garden. Can’t I just wish for good crops?
be admired as such. So, I’m taking a stand. I’m giving up on this unrealistic goal for me. My spaces will never look like that.
I will admit, at first, I lusted for the empty surfaces, the neat and orderly shelves, and then I wondered… Who lives like that? Like all great interior magazines with set decorators and art directors hidden just out of frame –nothing’s out of place, askew, or disordered on these pages. And, where’s the stuff?
This week’s masterpiece depicts an office, conspicuously sans the computer and paper tornado that fills my work space. The barren desktop holds only a spiral bound notebook, two pens, and an
empty in-box. Huh? Not even a coffee cup? The room-length shelves hold not one, not two, but FOUR books, and a few abstract sculpture-like “thingies.” Page after page illustrate gleaming, streamlined fantasies full of nothingness. Just like my space… Not.
This beautifully choreographed assemblage of order wouldn’t last ten minutes in my house. In my office alone, I’m not sure that I’ve actually seen the top of my desk since it was delivered. I have a library’s worth of books scattered around the house, some shelved double sometimes even triple deep. No Kindle for me. Any flat surface is fair game to catch the piles of mail, magazines and newspapers that enter our space that someday I hope to deal with.
I’ve grown accustomed to my flotsam and jetsam. I’m throwing in the towel and ready to live on the edge. I’m going to embrace my piles, let the periodicals pile up and allow my clutter to live free. I’ve accepted that I will never win the organized life award. And I’ve decided that it just doesn’t matter. Well, that is, until spring bounds forward and the Spring Cleaning gurus start to buzz all around me.
When can I start seeds?