My house is a mess. And not it’s not just because we’re moving. It’s been in various forms of messiness for a while now. I could blame my children, but in reality, it’s me. My house is cluttered because my mind is cluttered. I’m thinking about things too much and have always done that. No amount of military training can break the clutches of a cluttered mind.
I think that Mr. Houseful does a gleeful dance every time I throw something of mine away that I’ve been holding on to for years. Clothes that I can’t fit, mementos that I can’t remember the importance of. Scrapbooking stuff. It’s ridiculous. There are things that I think that I hold on to, because they remind me of what I think are better times. Clothes from when I was a size four. Items from before becoming a wife and mother. Letters from my sister while I was in college.
There are things that I flat out refuse to get rid of. For example. I have a piece of a cardboard box with my college address written on it by my Granny Blackburn. She sent me a pound of pecans picked from her tree when I was pregnant. I ripped just that portion of the box off, and I don’t want to throw it away. It’s so silly when I think about it, but I feel like once I throw these items away, I will no longer be able to remember anything.
For example. I wish that I had a recording of my sister’s voice. I can’t recall it. That makes me sad. I can recall my Granny Blackburn’s, and my grandfathers (both of them) but I can’t get a grasp on my sister’s. So I do the only thing that I can do. That’s to save any item that is connected to her. Scribbles to her boyfriend Jimmy on post it notes (I told you it was odd) drawings of flowers that she did. Her high school planner from senior year.
I’m hoping that when we move into our new home, I will have unloaded the unnecessary clutter. In my home and in my mind. I find myself starting things and forgetting to finish them, even if they are written down, or input into Google Calendar.
I sleep TONS – although my Facebook friends will say that it looks as if I don’t, and can stay up trying to clear my mind from things. This is how we got the baked bread, the marshmallows, and the stews that I will be posting. All from just having all of these ideas and not being able to rest until they are done. I attempted french bread, and it was a flop. Did I try to do it again? Nope. Because I did it. Will I do it again – probably so, but that’s not where my mind is at the moment. It’s on mastering knitting a scarf. Finishing it, and deeming it conquered – for the moment.
I know that I’m not the only one with clutter around them. You won’t see me taking shots of my home, because I’m not proud of it. I’m not a hoarder, but I’m sure that if I wallowed in self pity for a bit longer, I could very well become one. Don’t let this make you think that we don’t clean. We DO. But by the time it’s unraveled for the fifth time by tiny hands, the last thing that I want to do is tidy up again. Thus the huge purge. I figure once we get it out of sight, it will stay out of mind, and we can get a hand on this thing.
Until then, I go back to chucking papers from ’98 – don’t ask, and outfits from the same time.