The battle against STUFF has officially begun in earnest. No, I won’t be done by the end of 2005, but progress is being made.
Um, speaking of purging… there’s an ad on right now for Nutrisystem Nourish (motto: Now with MORE IRONY!), and the spokesskeleton is talking about how she went from a size 10 to a size 4 in just 3 months, or something. First of all? She looked pretty good as a size 10. Second? I’m a size 4, and I’m twice as big as her. What is it about the impending new year that makes everyone want to get so skinny that those of us who were thin to begin with start wondering if we woke up fat one day and didn’t notice?
Sorry, what was I talking about? I was mesmerized by the commercial and then I had to go eat half a pan of brownies in the name of feminism. Yes. What?
Oh, right. Purging. Of the stuff, not the food, variety.
I worked on the playroom some more, today. When I had finished shovelling (yes, actually SHOVELLING) the assorted floor crap into a pile in the center of the room, I was able to complete the rearranging of items in there to accommodate the new computer setup.
I also extracted a bunch of toys to take to the consignment store. If the children are allowed to participate in the culling of items, it’s not so much “culling” as it is “beseeching.” Because they NEEEEEEED that shape sorter that was a really exciting new toy when they were babies. If I point out that they are far too old for such a thing, now, they will ASSURE me that they still play with it, REALLY MAMA. Or they need it for their dolls and stuffed animals.
But hey, when they’re not here, I just take all of their favorite things and give them away. That’s just the sort of horrible bitch I am. Or maybe I take the stuff they never touch and then I rearrange the room so that they never notice what’s missing. Either way. The only important part is that they not be here when I do it.
Turning back, finally, to the mountain of stuff in the center of rug, I spent some time pulling out and putting away legos, magnetix, dollhouse furniture, crayons, etc. After… I dunno… an hour, maybe, of this? I pulled a small plastic dragon from the pile and used it to stab myself repeatedly in the eyes. This had the double benefits of giving me an excuse to stop sorting (because I could no longer see) and allowing me to justify throwing out the rest of the pile (because, after all, it was now covered in blood and, um, eye juice).
Thankfully, this happened late in the evening, when I’d already accomplished lots and no longer needed to see.
So. Toys taken to consignment. Computer boxes relegated to the basement. Christmas taken down and put away. Several bags of clothing removed. Multiple stacks of paper whipped into submission.
And the unexpected crown jewel in my day: My duplicate car title arrived. I expected to be stuck in a paper maze at the DMV for at least a month, so this was very exciting. I can now take this title and send it to my insurance company, and they, in turn, will send me a very large check. This will be useful, because I somehow convinced the nice people at Subaru to lend me rather a lot of money, and I’m guessing they’d like it back. I mean, I’m considering spending it all on fast living. Or shoes. But probably I’ll just pay off the new (old) car.
It’s a nice wrap-up to the year; the last loose end in putting the car accident behind us for good.
I’ve never been much for New Year’s resolutions, really, but this year I feel like I should come up with a few. I don’t know why. Maybe because the last couple of years I’ve just quipped, “Oh, well, this year is BOUND to be better than last year,” and then of course my hubris discovered that the new year could, in fact, suck just as badly as the previous year, but in a completely different way! I’m thinking I need a new strategy.
It’s been very liberating, getting things cleaned out. I think for 2006 I need to keep going in this direction; stop holding on to old things, things I’m afraid to let go. It turns out that the occasional loss of something I actually DO need (like a car title, perhaps?) is annoying, but hardly life-shattering. Stuff is replaceable, when necessary.
Suppose I went on a 3-month plan where I focused on only the things that nourished me, and completely dropped my standard angst about everything else? I’m not sure I would recognize myself at the end of that process. Imagine the difference. Clearing out all the obstacles, making way for… whatever comes next.
And then I would totally arm-wrestle that Nutrisystem bitch and kick her skinny little ass.