Decluttering: on the one hand, and on the other

It’s January, the month of fresh starts and resolutions. It’s the month for … decluttering.

Clutter causes a lot of problems. I’m very familiar with these problems. I have pack-rat tendencies, and my papers and notebooks spread out over every available surface. 

The first problem is that clutter just looks bad. Those beautiful rooms you see in decorating magazines? No clutter.  Either their owners live incredibly spare lives, or (more likely) they have removed every bit of extra stuff from the room before the photo was taken, leaving only a few carefully angled books and knick-knacks to make the room look lived-in. (Exception: those Victorian rooms with the perfectly coordinated and arranged clutter—which means it isn’t really clutter.)

I’m not saying that if I decluttered, my house would suddenly be magazine-ready. I know there’s more to it. But wow, would it look a whole lot more attractive than it does now!

The second problem with clutter is that it interferes with leading a productive life. Sitting down to write or draw is a lot less appealing if I know I’m going to have to shove piles of stuff out of the way first. And I know it isn’t just me; my husband says the same thing about his overflowing work counter.

Also, at a certain point I start losing things in the clutter, which is very counterproductive. Where did I put the comments on last week’s work? I know it was in a folder, but it isn’t in my bag any more. And didn’t I have a large vase just the right size for these flowers? What did I do with it?

The third problem—and it isn’t a problem with clutter, exactly, but a more general problem with hanging on to stuff—is that it’s an inefficient use of goods. I could clear all the papers and knick-knacks and gadgets from my work surfaces by putting them into boxes and shoving the boxes in the attic. That would declutter a large part of the house and solve the first two problems I mentioned, but if I’m not going to use that rock tumbler/train set/reference book/vase, why keep it? Someone else could be polishing rocks or playing trains or reading about heraldry or arranging flowers, if only they had the right equipment. What a waste.

Thinking about all this fills me with the desire to Marie-Kondo my part of the house and get rid of everything that doesn’t “spark joy” (not including necessary but dull stuff like my printer and tax files and… you get the idea). Why keep so much stuff? Why not really pare down to the essentials?

And then I think about the romance of the attic.

If you’ve read a lot of older children’s books, you’ve probably read some where children who are visiting aged relatives creep up into the attic and discover all sorts of amazing things forgotten in trunks, boxes, and dusty crates. In some books these are magic treasures that lead to wild adventures. In other books they discover secrets hidden in old letters and leather-bound books. Sepia-toned photos, old lockets, baby shoes—whose are they?

The discoveries don’t even have to be that dramatic to be interesting. My Granny’s cellar (she didn’t have an attic) had hatboxes, old tools, musical instruments, fancy writing desks, yarn from half-knit sweaters, ceramic toads, game boards, and I don’t remember what else. Oh yeah—a gold thimble. Really.

 

When M was little, we visited my parents a couple of times a year at their house. In the rooms of her grandparents’ house (not just the attic), she found a lot of blocks to play with, some Matchbox cars, my old Micronauts, a big doll (also mine) that makes a “Maa!” sound if you turn her over, blocks of watercolor paper, tiny plastic animals, and more. When I saved those things, was I planning for my daughter’s future entertainment? Of course not. Maybe some of those did “spark joy”, but mostly it was just chance that they never got disposed of.

So what attitude should I take to the wide variety of things cluttering up my house? Certainly there’s no point in keeping something that is falling apart, or just plain ugly. And it wouldn’t be a good use of other things to keep them packed away for that hypothetical attic explorer. Better to get them into the hands of someone who will use them.

But I think I can justify keeping an assortment of useless curiosities, so long as I don’t fill up too much space with them. Some tiny drawers, a few shoeboxes… some old toys and mementos…Of course, I’ve got a long way to go before I need to worry about not having enough stuff tucked away.

To close, here is scene that sticks in my memory from Pippi Longstocking, by AstridLindgren (trans. Florence Lamborn).

“Afterward Pippi invited them to step into the parlor. There was only one piece of furniture in there. It was a huge chest with many tiny drawers. Pippi opened the drawers and showed Tommy and Annika all the treasures she kept there. There were wonderful birds’ eggs, strange shells and stones, pretty little boxes, lovely silver mirrors, pearl necklaces, and many other things that Pippi and her father had bought on their journeys around the world. Pippi gave each of her new playmates a little gift to remember her by. Tommy got a dagger with a shimmering mother-of-pearl handle and Annika, a little box with a cover decorated with pink shells. In the box there was a ring with a green stone.”

Till next post.