I had my garage sale.
Just this week, I unloaded on, oops . . . I mean, blessed a friend with the last box of leftover clothes that had been sitting in the back of my Suburban for almost a week.
And then, while folding clothes, I came across a cute little skirt of my daughter’s that should fit . . . but doesn’t.
“Time to get rid of it!” said the newly developed portion of my brain.
“But what can I do with it? I don’t have anymore boxes of stuff for the garage sale, and I don’t want to even think about having another one,” said the incredibly-dominant-slob-portion of my brain.
Moments like this literally feel paralyzing to me. I get a physical sensation that I’m unable to move freely, like I’m swimming in Jello.
The reality is that I do have a box of odds-and-ends left in the garage to donate. I’d walked by it now for, ummm, almost three weeks without noticing it or remembering it in the aforementioned moment of frustration, but I did see it today. I can put the skirt in there, but the problem still exists.
Once I’ve unloaded the huge amount of decluttered items gathered since starting this blog, what will I do?
I’ve read the magazine articles and the blog posts of mamas who have it all together. I know about the cutesy “give-away” baskets sitting by the backdoor, and the plastic storage boxes in the trunk of the car, so you can get it out of your home right away and drop it off at the donation site while running errands around town.
Ummm, but I’m a slob. If I can’t remember to take my restaurant leftovers into the house even though I’ve ridden the 20 minutes home holding them in my lap, how in the world am I supposed to remember to stop by the thrift store in the midst of the other errands on the mental list rattling around in my brain?
And the basket by the door? Hmmm. But you know how I like to shove, and it probably wouldn’t take too long to start overflowing, and then it wouldn’t be cute anymore. AND I feel pretty confident that my selective vision would prevent me from seeing it.
I know I’m making excuses. I know that I have to grow up to the point where I’ll be able to handle this kind of stuff. It’s just so tempting to throw the cute little perfectly good skirt in the trash so I won’t have to deal with it.
I have purposely stopped playing the part of the decluttering madwoman this summer, but the reality is that there will always be clutter. Always. I have to learn to deal with it little by little, as I unearth it, so it doesn’t require me to reprise that role.