I consider myself a Master Declutterer because I have to do it so much.
I have to do it so much because I’m also a Master Reclutterer.
Hubby claims our room is a science fiction phenomenon. It’s like when you shoot down and destroy everything in a video game. It’s gone, the space is clear . . . and then you hit the reset button and suddenly the game is back to exactly how it was before you started shooting.
Obviously, there’s a blankety-blank reset button hiding in our master bedroom, but I can’t seem to find it. I just know I keep accidentally hitting it in my sleep.
But as I work to change my recluttering ways, I know it’s all about little decisions.
The picture above? It’s one of two balloons I did keep. They’re Mylar. They’ll last a little while.
Not sure why I needed them, but I’m still proud of myself for NOT taking home the regular balloons. You know, the ones that will shrivel by tomorrow.
I know. It’s so OBVIOUS that I didn’t need eight black balloons, but I still had to make a very conscious decision to NOT take them home when someone asked. Because my natural reaction is to think, “Why NOT take them home?”
Well, in the moment, I’m in decision mode.
Yes or no.
No means they’re out of my life forever, and I’ll never miss them.
Yes means I’ll squeeze them into the Suburban, fuss at kids who bounce them against siblings’ heads, leave a few in the car, bring a few in, notice the next morning that they are shriveled, not notice them for the next few days/weeks/months and then one day (while in the midst of another decluttering project) berate myself for ever bringing them home in the first place.
Little decisions are so much easier than all of that.--Nony
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