I've decided that I want to become a minimalist. No wait - don't dismiss this idea straight off. You see, my mind is so cluttered that I have no attention span. For a while, I self-diagnosed ADD - we can do that in the 21st century because having a disorder is a very acceptable answer for any question of imperfection in our lives. But then I realized that actually, as a grown-up, I do have a choice about being focused. On anything. For more than a minute. Where was I? Right. My mind is cluttered and all the junk my family has accumulated over the past decade is not helping. It's time to purge. Not in the bulimia way, but in the get rid of all this useless crap way. The husband suggests that we participate in the town-wide yard sale. Hmmm....I admit that I sometimes enjoy browsing through people's discards and have even been known to pick up a few odd bits from the neighbor's lawn. But as I haul a box full of tattered Barbies, outgrown skates, old curtain rods, and still-perfectly-functional VHS tapes, I wonder. Why the heck do I have all of this, and why do I think anybody else would want it? And what about the exercise of selling that formerly "must-have" $200 bread-maker set for $2.00? I mean what's the point? Imagine my husband standing out there for half a day engaging in such negotiations as the sale of a 10 year old cozycoupe for 5 bucks. On a weekday, he'll charge his clients an hourly rate that could keep me in Prada* but on this particular Saturday, for some reason, he'll high-five me about taking in $50 by lunch time. Can't we just dump it all somewhere? Oh, I know that's so un-green. But I reason it's balanced out by my choice of reusable shopping totes instead of paper or plastic. The point is, I used to have wild fantasies of sitting in the front row at Fashion Week, wearing Versace and waiting for my boyfriend, Tyson Beckford to walk. Now my wild fantasies look more like this:So, I lay out the cabbage patch dolls, mismatched Duplo sets, threadbard area rugs, what-was-I-thinking pieces of wicker, and Tickle-Me Elmo's. As my basement floor becomes visible, I begin settling into that zen-feeling of letting go. It's so freeing to stop hanging on to stuff. It's so clean, so spacious, so open - so perfect for a home gym...and the kids would love an airhockey table, oooh, and if we got one of those projectors, that wall would be perfect for a home theater. My husband's right, getting rid of stuff is exactly what we need to do. First, I have to schedule a haircut - so that I don't have to worry about my getting my hair out of my face while I shop for the new stuff. You know how it's just impossible to concentrate when you don't feel good about how you look. Oh, that reminds me, I want to get this new flat iron...I better make a list - my head is just buzzing with ideas - or is that clutter?
*Hey, don't hate on that Prada comment. Ironically, now that we can actually afford it, I just can't get myself to buy an $800 skirt to wear to ShopRite.