Reformation

During my scroll on Facebook the other day, I noticed that a friend of mine is planning a different sort of Lenten challenge... instead of giving up chocolate or booze or crappy television, she's giving up clutter. She's doing this 40 Bags in 40 Days challenge. 

Cool. 

So, here I'm sitting, thinking: I've got clutter. I've got bags. I've got 40 days (god, I hope I've got 40 days!). OK, so I'm an Atheist and I don't do Lent... but Christians don't have the market cornered on reformation, right? Well, not this sort of reformation, right? 

Right. 

OK! It's on like Donkey Kong, man! I'mma declutter the hell out of Lent! (Pretty sure there's a religious joke in there somewhere...) Between now and Easter (with one day per week off [if the Christians can take Sundays off, I can surely take Friday nights]), I'm going to remove 40 bags of crap from my house. 

Bam!

Apparently, there are no rules regarding what type or size of bags you have to use (though if I'm honest, I could probably fill 40 of those 30-gallon lawn and leaf suckers). And there's no rule about whether you have to ditch or donate... you just have to get it out of the house (and not into the garage or shed [that's apparently key. Go figure]).

I need to do this. And I don't mean because I've got a lot of crap I don't want (although I do). I need to do this to get myself to place of quiet and order and peace. Because Life of late has been anything but quiet, orderly, and peaceful.

See, sixteen months ago, I moved into my mother's house. She was living with my brother and his wife by then, dementia having cruelly robbed her of her ability to live alone. They made her a cozy little "apartment" within their home, but they couldn't take all of her things, so much was left behind. Then I moved in so we didn't have to sell the house until we felt it was really necessary. There was still a small mortgage on it, so the decision was made for me (the only renter among us) to take care of the bills until a sale was on the agenda.

I was good with it. Mostly. Though I really loved (and still miss) the house I was living in, it had become too expensive, what with a child in college and no child support anymore. This seemed the best way to cut my expenses and help our family out.

But... 

My brothers didn't want to part with my mother's things while she was still alive. And she had a lot of stuff. And I had a whole house (a bigger-than-my-mother's house) full of things. I sold and donated a lot before I moved, but I still had a lot.

And all that stuff? Did. Not. Fit. 

I tried to make the best of a bad situation. I tried to make the main living spaces as clutter-free as possible, but I hesitated to make big changes, to paint, to remove hideous wallpaper, or even to hang my own pictures. I stuffed everything I didn't need immediately into the converted garage and the basement. As a result I hate going into those spaces (but I really need those spaces). I hate sitting in a living room that's painted a color I don't like. I hate eating at a dining room table that's not mine. I hate doing dishes in a kitchen plastered with flowery wallpaper. I hate feeling like an unwanted guest in a place that should feel like home. In short, I hate my space.

My mother died in the fall. Her things can now go. Her decorating style (not at all my decorating style) can be changed. This house - my mother's house - might never really feel like mine, or like home, but at least it can reflect more of me than her. And it can be quiet and ordered and peaceful. And I can enjoy living here.

But first I have to get rid of the crap!

Bag #1 goes tonight. It's perfect, really, as tomorrow's garbage day (I suspect our garbage men are going to dread swinging by my house every Thursday for a while. Maybe I'll bake them cookies). 

Let the Reformation begin!

XO,