Alone and Cleaning (Boring to Read)
Part I
I'm at home with just the dogs. When home alone, I turn into one of two people: Couch Potato Anika (watches re-runs of Sex and the City or other Chick Flicks until the wee small hours of the morning then sleeps in til the day's half over) or Cleaning Machine Anika. Tonight I've been Cleaning Machine Anika.
I first cleaned the kitchen. All the way. I even wiped down the counters.
Then I started some laundry, mainly to change my sheets. I even put a new fitted sheet on right away.
I decided to organize my clothes; something I do every now and again, and it seemed like a logical (and very necessary) next step. So I started organizing. Underwear in the top drawer, t-shirts and comfy pants folded and stacked on their shelf, fancy stuff hung up in the closet. When I say that I "organize" my clothes, it's really just putting it away, where it's supposed to go. Everything already has a logical place, I just never seem to put it back in a timely manner.
When everything is in it's proper spot, my room is very clean, but over the course of the month or so that follows, the disarray sets in. T-shirts come off the shelf, fancy clothes come off their hangers, underwear comes out of drawer. Once worn, everything ends up in the laundry pile that's in the bottom of the the closet in the bathroom. Clothes and undies get washed and folded and taken back upstairs in a laundry basket, and that's pretty much where they stay.
When I need something, like new socks or a particular tank top, I rummage through the laundry basket of clean folded clothes. In the process everything gets unfolded and crumpled, but there it all remains in one jumbled mess until I get the oomph and motivation to "organize" once again. Each time I do this mega put-everything-in-its-proper-place-organization-job I promise myself that the next time I wash a load, I'm going to take 5 minutes and put everything in its spot immediately after it's folded. I have never, not once, fulfilled this promise to myself. I could save myself an 1hr+ of "organizing" every month if I'd just put stuff away as I wash it, but there always seems to be something better to do.
Part II
Tonight I became very aware of something: I have a ton of clothes. When viewed as a whole I say to myself, "geez, who needs that many clothes? Surely you can get rid of about half of them at least!" but then when I start looking at the individual items, I get in trouble. I'm attached to my clothes. Most have at least a few good memories that pop up when I'm thinking about getting rid of them. There are some clothes that are really old and soft and worn, and I like to wear them when I'm not feeling so well, but they look pretty god-awful otherwise. I have some items that I love that I hope hope hope I'll be able to fit into again someday (hah). I have some stuff that I hardly get the opportunity to wear (seems like no one dresses up anymore), but feel like I have to keep just in case the right occasion pops up suddenly.
I have different categories of types of shirts. Like t-shirts for example. I have nice t-shirts that might have some extra detailing like an interesting neck line or embroidery. I have the big XL freebie t-shirts that I seem to acquire as if by magic from trade shows, friends and brothers. I have the more fitted but not really that nice (no detailing) t-shirts that I wear around the house or to work out in, or sometimes when I go places and want to be very casual. Then there's the other stack of "not so nice" t-shirts that I wouldn't wear out anywhere, but you know, they're still good.
Sometimes the categories overlap a bit. Like with my tank tops. I have the tank tops that I can wear under stuff to layer, and/or wear them to bed. Then there's the category that I can wear to bed, or to the gym, but not to layer. Yet another stack are the ones I can layer, but not wear to the gym, and maybe wear to bed, but maybe not.
It's complicated, and I'm not entirely sure how this even happened. It's not like I sat down one day and designed these categories and then shopped for stuff to fit them. I guess it just evolved over time.
I guess with the move to Portland looming, I'm looking at everything I own in a different way, or at least I'm becoming aware of my relationship to material items. I'm going to have to do some serious paring down of everything. I still have the out that I can just box stuff up and leave it here at my mom's house, but I'd hate to burden her with my crap that will likely just sit in boxes for years.
I'm at home with just the dogs. When home alone, I turn into one of two people: Couch Potato Anika (watches re-runs of Sex and the City or other Chick Flicks until the wee small hours of the morning then sleeps in til the day's half over) or Cleaning Machine Anika. Tonight I've been Cleaning Machine Anika.
I first cleaned the kitchen. All the way. I even wiped down the counters.
Then I started some laundry, mainly to change my sheets. I even put a new fitted sheet on right away.
I decided to organize my clothes; something I do every now and again, and it seemed like a logical (and very necessary) next step. So I started organizing. Underwear in the top drawer, t-shirts and comfy pants folded and stacked on their shelf, fancy stuff hung up in the closet. When I say that I "organize" my clothes, it's really just putting it away, where it's supposed to go. Everything already has a logical place, I just never seem to put it back in a timely manner.
When everything is in it's proper spot, my room is very clean, but over the course of the month or so that follows, the disarray sets in. T-shirts come off the shelf, fancy clothes come off their hangers, underwear comes out of drawer. Once worn, everything ends up in the laundry pile that's in the bottom of the the closet in the bathroom. Clothes and undies get washed and folded and taken back upstairs in a laundry basket, and that's pretty much where they stay.
When I need something, like new socks or a particular tank top, I rummage through the laundry basket of clean folded clothes. In the process everything gets unfolded and crumpled, but there it all remains in one jumbled mess until I get the oomph and motivation to "organize" once again. Each time I do this mega put-everything-in-its-proper-place-organization-job I promise myself that the next time I wash a load, I'm going to take 5 minutes and put everything in its spot immediately after it's folded. I have never, not once, fulfilled this promise to myself. I could save myself an 1hr+ of "organizing" every month if I'd just put stuff away as I wash it, but there always seems to be something better to do.
Part II
Tonight I became very aware of something: I have a ton of clothes. When viewed as a whole I say to myself, "geez, who needs that many clothes? Surely you can get rid of about half of them at least!" but then when I start looking at the individual items, I get in trouble. I'm attached to my clothes. Most have at least a few good memories that pop up when I'm thinking about getting rid of them. There are some clothes that are really old and soft and worn, and I like to wear them when I'm not feeling so well, but they look pretty god-awful otherwise. I have some items that I love that I hope hope hope I'll be able to fit into again someday (hah). I have some stuff that I hardly get the opportunity to wear (seems like no one dresses up anymore), but feel like I have to keep just in case the right occasion pops up suddenly.
I have different categories of types of shirts. Like t-shirts for example. I have nice t-shirts that might have some extra detailing like an interesting neck line or embroidery. I have the big XL freebie t-shirts that I seem to acquire as if by magic from trade shows, friends and brothers. I have the more fitted but not really that nice (no detailing) t-shirts that I wear around the house or to work out in, or sometimes when I go places and want to be very casual. Then there's the other stack of "not so nice" t-shirts that I wouldn't wear out anywhere, but you know, they're still good.
Sometimes the categories overlap a bit. Like with my tank tops. I have the tank tops that I can wear under stuff to layer, and/or wear them to bed. Then there's the category that I can wear to bed, or to the gym, but not to layer. Yet another stack are the ones I can layer, but not wear to the gym, and maybe wear to bed, but maybe not.
It's complicated, and I'm not entirely sure how this even happened. It's not like I sat down one day and designed these categories and then shopped for stuff to fit them. I guess it just evolved over time.
I guess with the move to Portland looming, I'm looking at everything I own in a different way, or at least I'm becoming aware of my relationship to material items. I'm going to have to do some serious paring down of everything. I still have the out that I can just box stuff up and leave it here at my mom's house, but I'd hate to burden her with my crap that will likely just sit in boxes for years.