Quick Notes on Cleaning
Psychological trick number one: Open the box. It worked just now on a box of books. Once I opened the box, I went to psychological trick number two: Empty the box and put it aside. Then you have to get rid of the books, and the box is gone, so you'll have to actually put them away. Good one. Keep that in mind for the next thing...
The damned IKEA Goliat desk that I have NOT put together since buying it in November. I opened the box, and I emptied it into a chair, along with the instructions. This will make it easier to read the instructions, which come in the form of a pamphlet the size of a Victorian novel. Also, should I suddenly, impulsively, wish to dive in and try to put the thing together, it's right there in front of me staring me in my face. Like a cat that wants fed.
But doing these two things, indeed merely opening these two boxes, forced me to have to make room for the desk, so I rearranged my furniture, sending it all slightly askew and at odd angles with the walls. My dining table is already this way. Now, whenever I get around to assembling that damned IKEA Goliat desk, I have a corner space just waiting for it.
Interesting note on cleaning number one: When I sweep up a paper clip in a massive mess of cat hair, leftover pine needles from the Christmas wreath, bits of paper, dust, and other accumulated grimy clutter, and rather than saving that paper clip as I usually do--must not waste or contribute to landfills--but instead I simply toss it in the trash--that is collateral damage. When I bomb some target and I kill a family in the floor below, that's collateral murder. Or something similar. If we still want to tell ourselves this is morally okay, well.... Okay, but collateral damage? Nay. Make a mental note.
The damned IKEA Goliat desk that I have NOT put together since buying it in November. I opened the box, and I emptied it into a chair, along with the instructions. This will make it easier to read the instructions, which come in the form of a pamphlet the size of a Victorian novel. Also, should I suddenly, impulsively, wish to dive in and try to put the thing together, it's right there in front of me staring me in my face. Like a cat that wants fed.
But doing these two things, indeed merely opening these two boxes, forced me to have to make room for the desk, so I rearranged my furniture, sending it all slightly askew and at odd angles with the walls. My dining table is already this way. Now, whenever I get around to assembling that damned IKEA Goliat desk, I have a corner space just waiting for it.
Interesting note on cleaning number one: When I sweep up a paper clip in a massive mess of cat hair, leftover pine needles from the Christmas wreath, bits of paper, dust, and other accumulated grimy clutter, and rather than saving that paper clip as I usually do--must not waste or contribute to landfills--but instead I simply toss it in the trash--that is collateral damage. When I bomb some target and I kill a family in the floor below, that's collateral murder. Or something similar. If we still want to tell ourselves this is morally okay, well.... Okay, but collateral damage? Nay. Make a mental note.