declutterbug

I have kept a few things for a long while because they have both sentimental and use value, and also because they are "proof" of what I've gone through.

I don't have a lot of things from my childhood; just a teddy bear, my backgammon set, and my dictionary.

Well, both the backgammon set (a gift from my favorite relative, my aunt) and the dictionary (the thing I most wanted for the holidays when I was 9 years old, and which my parents gave me) have been damaged by my dad.

He swept the backgammon set off the kitchen table when I was in jr high or high school, breaking some of the pieces, which my mom and I later glued back together. The set has some good memories, and was a gift from my aunt, as well as being functional, so I'm not quite ready to let it go. Perhaps soon, though. I don't know.

The dictionary, that item I couldn't wait to have and which saw me from elementary school through my PhD, is also damaged. My dad threw it at me when I was in elementary school. I was sitting against the wall, and I must have been doing something wrong (probably being difficult or crying). He tossed it, I ducked--I am excellent at avoiding hurled objects--and it hit the wall, breaking the spine some and ripping the cloth cover. I was devastated that my beloved dictionary was hurt. My mom glued it back together for me, and it sits here (tattered and a bit ripped on the cover but still surprisingly intact) by my desk.

I'm an adult now.

I have my own business(es).

I write. Words are one of my main media. I use that dictionary regularly. And when I pick it up, I remember my mom helping me look up words. I remember poring over its pages, knowing that it held profound secrets, that if I could understand and learn the words, I could describe how I was feeling, understand what I was seeing, and in a small way, make sense of the world around me. But when I pick it up now, I also see it coming towards me through the air, hitting the wall, and falling to the floor in a crumple of pages.

I have kept the dictionary around because it was a sentimental and useful object, but also because it's "proof" of what I went through. "See that broken dictionary? It was thrown at me when I was a child." I think I needed this tangible proof, because my family certainly didn't remember or want to remember these incidents, and my experience of them was often devalued or refuted. I felt I needed to keep the proof, for myself, so I knew I wasn't crazy, wasn't exaggerating, or didn't have a faulty memory.

I actually have a very good relationship with my dad nowadays.

Do I need the dictionary to remind me of the past? What does it mean to let these things go, to toss out something that has been with me for 27 years, which holds both the good and the bad? Do I let it go because of the bad connotations? Or keep it because of the good?

I already know the answer to this. I asked my partner to take me shopping for a new dictionary this weekend. We are going to replace it with a brand new one. In some ways, the "experience" of the dictionary will always be with me, but I won't have the tangible reminder. I am not sure how I feel about that. It was a loving gift to a bright, wordy child, and it's one of my few childhood possessions. Part of me doesn't understand why I should get rid of it, part of me knows that I need to clear things out and live in the now, to enjoy the good relationship I have with my family, to let the past be the past rather than bringing into the present (and future) with me.

I read recently that in the UK alone, there are over 250 million odd socks hanging out without their mates. (This is based on a recent MFI survey of 2500 Brits). Can you imagine how many there are in the US?

I'm definitely helping the total.

I am a firm believer in the "alternate sock universe," which sucks in one sock from each pair, and sends us a wire clothes hanger in return. (I believe the inhabitants of that universe have 1 foot, and no system for using hangers, which are merely "thank you" presents for socks).

But I digress...

Today, match up your socks. Put all the (clean) extras in a bag or box. Allow yourself to pull out the super excellent good perfect fabulous spares, and stick them in a separate small bag. (I say small because not all of your extra socks fit into this category, so don't even think about passing off old gym socks and holey dress socks as "good").

Now, you can do one of two things:

1. Toss out the box of socks, and keep the small bag of favorites until you do your laundry, peer under the bed, and ascertain the mates are gone forever, or one month, whichever comes first.

--or--

2. Write the date one month from today on the box, and mark it in your calendar so you don't forget. This allows you to toss the sock box *after* you've convinced yourself the other ones are living happily among the one-footed hanger givers. You can keep the small bag of favorites for this time as well. After a month, though, out they go.

I would imagine you rarely wear one sock (although I guess some of you might. I had a partner who almost always had on only a left sock when she was hanging around the house). So let those spares go. You wouldn't keep one-legged jeans around, or a coat with one arm, would you? No, wait, don't answer that...

I decided that I would save time filing if I threw most of it away.

So I did.

I have some lovely decluttering books, but right now I just need a book or website that says, "be fearless, be a clutter warrior, toss it all out and don't look back!"

I realized that when things are good in my life (and by this I usually mean my relationships and my business, although not always), I have a much easier time letting things go. They seem to float out the door. When I'm feeling unsure, or clamped down, or emotional, I tend to hang on to stuff. This isn't *always* the case as sometimes a good bout of upset will cause me to clean things up in a radical way.

Someone told me that this blog is like a 1950s home ec text, with all the tips and such. (So now ladies, make sure the children are washed and dressed and sitting quietly in front of the steaming pot roast at exactly 5:30 PM...HA!).

Of course this person is not a clutterer, which means she most likely doesn't realize that learning coping mechanisms for the little things (like replacing garbage bags and organizing snowstorms of little white paper scraps) is key for the likes of us clutterbugs.

Non-clutterers do routine tasks automatically, and usually in a "standard" way; they don't inherently think that filing is a weird, unintuitive, complex task put on earth to make them pull their hair out strand by strand. They may find it tedious, but they see the pay off and so they do it. They don't understand why a 3" pile of papers is more appealing. (Visual people who are clutterers often like to pile rather than file.)

Or they don't see that that by giving a giant bag of vintage buttons away they are losing the potentiality of several great crafts projects. I think they probably just see old buttons and think "hmmm, I don't really need 200 buttons. Let's throw them out." Truth be told, I'm pretty good at ditching this kind of stuff. I still *see* the potential in things, I just don't keep them around because of it. I let my mind play with the options, see the quilt with the 200 buttons on it, see the old plates as a table top mosaic, etc. Then if I can't see myself doing it, in the near future, with the things I have collected, I let them go. There are more buttons, and plates and other weird found art objects out there, and I can get more if I suddenly get an urge to make art from old tire strips and wire coat hangers.

Me, I love figuring out systems I like and that work for me.

I grew up in the world's most organized and clean family. I would have had no problem licking the kitchen floor at my mom's house, or touching any surface and then putting my fingers in my mouth. Everything had a place, and in high school, my mom posted on my closet door "Do it. Do it right. Do it now." How I hated that, because doing it "right" wasn't the way I wanted to do it, i.e. it didn't feel right for me, it was her way. Which is a great way *for her.*

I am very thankful that I was exposed to lots of organization and cleanliness because I do know what things can look like and how to get them to look that way. However, I've gained the most pleasure in figuring out the ways that are natural or organic to me; these are the things that once they become habits, are effortless and sometimes even fun. (Whereas when I use a system that is imposed on me or that I use because "that's the way you do it," even after it's a habit, it always grates. I continue to dislike the task, and it still feels hard and icky and counterintuitive even though I keep my promise to myself to do whatever it is.)

When I'm trying to get rid of things, and I can't decide whether to keep it the item or not, I ask myself:

"What do I like more? This item, or the space it will free up?"

"What do I value more? This thing, or having a decluttered house?"

"What serves me more? This (whatever it is) or letting go and creating a wonderful present and future?"

The item almost always loses. :)

Here's something I always do that makes things easier when I empty the trash. I put a few spare bags in bottom of the trash can (bathroom, kitchen, bedroom etc.) and then line the can with the one I'm using. When I take the trash out, I don't have to hike to another room to get a new bag to complete the job. It's right there, begging me to put it to use!

And let's face it, most clutters have trouble with completion, and/or with staying on task. So why not make it easy on yourself? That way if you don't make it back into the bedroom, den etc. immediately after taking out the trash, you won't find yourself with an unlined can next time you are in the room with something gooey to toss!

Bumper sticker I saw today: "The best things in life aren't things"

A few quotes I've run across recently, that I thought y'all might enjoy:

"I never wear a watch, because I always know it's now -- and now is
when you should do it." San Francisco 49ers head coach, Steve Mariucci.

"Don't let anyone else put you down because of the clutter in your house. Don't you do it either. You know you can't measure your self-worth by your clutter. Otherwise, how would non-messy people measure their self-worth?" --Pigpen on her site Squalor Survivors. (wen's note: If you have a severe clutter or hoarding problem, please visit her site. It offers support and solid, helpful advice for extreme cases of clutter.)

For me, it's fleece jackets. I think it's because I wear them often, and I lead camping and kayaing trips (so it's good to have spares to loan out--on every trip, there are a few folks who would be mighty uncomfortable if the leaders hadn't packed extra gear.) I also didn't have enough of them for a long time. I'm cleaning out my coat closet and while most of the excess jackets are going right out the door, a number of the fleece are moving to the basement camping area.

At least it's not something large, like couches! :)

Get an inexpensive loose leaf binder to hold directions to places you go only often enough that you can't quite remember exactly where they are! This is a time saver, and will cut down on paper clutter as well. You won't have little scraps of paper floating around with directions scribbled on them, nor will you have to look up the same set of directions multiple times, or drive around thinking "oh, wait, this kind of looks familiar!" :)

This came to me from The Organizer Lady's newsletter. It sounds like the kind of advice I'd give to folks wanting to sensitize themselves to their actions, and/or overcome resistance to forming a new habit that would ultimately serve them. Give it a go and let me know how it worked for you!

AN EXPERIMENT: Let's try an experiment for today
and see what happens.

Choose one thing that is a problem to overcome and then do the wrong thing deliberately. For instance, if you think you should make your bed every day but keep failing to do it, deliberately mess it up further. If you fail to clean up your kitchen counter, deliberately pull all of the things out further and make the counter messier. If you fail to put your shoes up as a regular thing, instead of putting them up pull another pair of shoes out of the closet and put on the floor. The point of this is to sensitize you to the problem.

Do this in relation to one thing for today and see if this acts as an
impetus to view the behavior in a way that works for you. When you do it deliberately, you alert yourself to the undesired action.

We hear a lot about positive thinking in decluttering circles; lots of us talk about how we need to have a little faith that if we need something, it will come to us (so we don't actually have to keep *every single thing* just in case).

But it's good to ask yourself the following question, as well...

What's the worst that can happen if you toss it?

Maybe someone will need it. Maybe *you* will need it. It may turn out to be valuable. You may find the exact match to it at a yard sale a week later (note: avoid yard sales if this may be the case). Perhaps you'll not be able to replace it because they don't make it any more. Or your family will be mad because they considered it a heirloom/wanted it back someday/think your taste is horrendous except for *that particular item*. Maybe the person who gave it to you will be upset when they visit and it's gone.

You get the idea. Expose yourself to the worst case scenario. Let yourself feel the fear, anxiety etc. Sit with it. Feel the icky feelings and know that you can handle them!

Now, toss that stuff!

When you make a photo album, put the negatives for those photos in an envelope and tape or glue the envelope to the back or front inside cover of the album.

An idea on keeping all your "like" sheets and pillowcases together: Fold the sheets neatly and put them inside one of the pillowcases. That way you'll have a neat "bundle" to remove from the cupboard when you need a change of sheets. No more hunting around for the elusive pillow case that fell of the pile!

I enjoyed this piece on what the author calls "Structured Procrastination," probably because it was written by a Stanford prof, and I know how (most) academics work. :)

Click here to read the article.

A book I'm reading pointed out the following: If I leave from Santa Barbara and walk north 5 steps a day, I'll eventually end up in San Francisco. (Of course I'd need to watch out for traffic and poison oak, but that's another story.)

Anyway, here are a few of the small steps I've taken in the past two days:

• Cleared out an entire file crate, tossing about 95% of its contents and rehousing the rest.
• Added some more clothes to the pile for the clothing swap tonight
• Cleaned out the bottom shelf in the bathroom, wiping down all the cleanser bottles (and everything else), tossing out soaps and other things I didn't really want anymore, and cleaning and rehousing anything that didn't really belong there.
• Emptied both bathroom garbage cans, and the bedroom garbage can and recycling.
• Washed all the dishes (most of which weren't mine) and scrubbed and bleached out the sink.
• Went to Office Max for file folders and binders so I can continue training the paper tiger.

Yes, tonight it's that time again...

Time for a periodic potluck and super swap.

Here's the invite I usually use, to give you an idea of what the event consists of:

It's that time again, yes, time for the Give-n-Get Periodic Potluck and Clothing Exchange! New this time around: Check out our Book Department!

Come empty handed and go home with as many fine parting gifts as you can carry, or clear out your closets & bookshelves and bring bags of goodies to give.

How it works:

You bring stuff, like that now-vintage sweater you got from Aunt Sylvia for your Bat Mitzvah; the book you couldn't put down last summer, but have been tripping over all winter; the 4" platform shoes you HAD to have from the Haight (too bad they're a size 7 and you take a 9), those plastic neon purple pants you bought in a fit of retail hallucination, and all your doubles of Sue Grafton's Alphabet mysteries (I know, you were holding out so you could spell your full name with the titles...give it up).

Oh, and you bring some veggie food to share so our blood sugar doesn't plummet during the festivities. (No one likes a cranky shopper!)

We dine. We talk. We eye the bags and boxes covertly, wondering if there's a special treasure in there for US...

Then...

We put everything out.

You shop for free. Well, there are some prices to be paid. We may insist you try certain things on and give us a fashion show.

When we're done, we'll box up the rest and donate it to charity.

I don't intend to take much in, but rather to give a lot away. I typically do very well with that--several (this time, probably 6-8) large bags and boxes go out and maybe 2-4 items come in.

I didn't have time to cull my books, so it's mostly clothes and shoes this time for me. Typically, I have a lot of folks over, from 8-15, but this time I am doing it in conjunction with a dance performance troupe meeting, so it will be only a handful of folks. I hope it works out okay with the smaller number.

Last night, Ki reminded me that when she first met me, I didn't have a lot of stuff, and it was all beautifully organized, and that, two years later, when she moved over and moved in, everything was still amazingly organized and clean; I had more books because of my PhD, but everything had a "home" and was tidy.

Instead of thinking "What the heck happened?" I thought, "Wow, I used to be neat and tidy and organized, with not too much stuff. And that can happen again! YAY!"

I thanked Ki this morning for her words last night, because they let me see that the image I have of myself (as someone who likes organization and cleanliness but whose house doesn't currently match that) is actually accurate in the world and not just an untested fantasy of my ideal self.

"I have this idea that if one is good, a bazillion would be outstanding..."

Yep, been there. One pair of black pants? Good! Ten pair? Fan-tas-tic.

Today, figure out what good habits you already have.

For example, do you always make the bed? That's one of my biggies. Even if the rest of the bedroom looks like it's just been tossed by a dozen 3-year olds, that bed is made.

Do you always hang your towel up after you use it?

Do you have one place for your keys?

Do you toss junk mail immediately?

Take a minute or two, and jot down the things you already do well.

Try this. It works.

Every time you are going to leave a room, look around for something you can do to make it better before you go. Typically, I take an item that needs to go to another room with me (i.e. if there are shoes in the living room, and I'm walking to the bedroom, the shoes take a little field trip with me).

It's amazing how much you can clean up/throw out/reorganize with this method...

I almost titled this "unwanted visitors" but that's not entirely true. I'm usually pretty lax about having people over. I make sure the place isn't a wreck (i.e. dishes are done, floors swept, bathroom clean) but I don't stress over the fact that I have a lot of stuff. I figure, hey, they like me, they can deal with the fact that I have a billion books in the living room. In fact, a lot of my friends like to browse the "library" and check out books and videos.

I'm even okay about my very very neat and clean (did I mention they are extremely tidy? and organized? and neat and clean? very neat? very clean?) parents coming over, which they do like once a year or so, typically when I haven't made it to visit them in a while, or I'm graduating with a PhD or something. So the emphasis isn't really on the house and my possessions, although I know they wonder why I am the only member of my family besides my aunt who doesn't scrub everything with a toothbrush each week, and touch up the vaccuum marks in the carpet daily. Yet they are kind about it. Or at least they don't mention it. They know I'm the weird artsy, intellectual one, and that I need my accoutrements.

But I have an interesting dilemna.

As I said, there's not usually a lot of "stuff" for me around having people over. In fact, I just invited a bunch of folks over to have a dance meeting, and a potluck and clothing/book exchange next week. I didn't think "oh but I have too much stuff in the house!"

But I'm having hesitation around having a newish person in my life over. She lives about 75 miles north of us, and Ki (my partner) and I have spent every weekend with her since November 19th. We go visit her on Sat usually, spend the night at her place, and all go to dance class together the next day. Sometimes we stay longer, coming up on Friday, or staying over Sunday night.

Well, T. has never been down to see us. And she's willing to do so. But for some reason, I don't feel comfortable with her coming over.

I tried to logic it out. Is it because my other friends have been here before, and so they know what it looks like and are used to it? But alas, there was a first time for them, too. And as T. points out, she might get used to it as well.

I see T. as very neat and tidy, with not a lot of clutter, probably because she's neat and tidy without a lot of clutter. But I have other non-cluttery friends, including MQ, who is always giving her stuff away, and whose floor is clean enough to lick, should you go in for that kind of thing. And my parents, the extra-strength neat people? and my sister, also super duper deluxe clean? No worries there.

Then I thought maybe it was a class thing. I live with 4 others, she has her own place. She used to own a huge house with her ex-husband. I've never owned anything larger than my car. Ok, well my full-sized Dodge Dakota truck (vrrrroooom). But I have friends with insane amounts of money, like heiress amounts, like "My dad owns that TV station, oh and that skyscraper, too" piles of cash. And they come over. And they have fun. And it's all good.

So what the heck is going on?

T. asked if I thought she would judge me, and I said "maybe." Because she might. But hey, I know my parents, for all their tolerance, have judgements about my home. People judge me all the time about other things, and I'm good at saying "gee, mighty strong judgment they have" and letting it go. (For the most part. I'm human and so a small percentage of those judgements upset me.)

So what is it about this situation with T?

Here are some musings. Not all of them feel "right" but I am trying to think of whatever I can that might be causing this. Because if I wait until the house is done, she ain't comin' over for like two years. And in order to feel comfortable having her over, I need to sort out what's going on.

*My house no longer matches who I have become, and who I am striving to be. So having new people over to witness that gap is uncomfortable.

*I don't want her in my space because it would let her in closer. (Although this is a weird one because she's already in pretty far.)

*I don't think she'd understand my way of life (housemates, futons, fridge divided by 5 people).

*Bad first impression? i.e giving someone an image they don't really need, and which will be hard to get rid of later, like your boss picking his nose and eating it, or your ex-boyfriend in that hideous neon green speedo.

*Different taste. I have old, funky furniture that I love (for the most part--there are some pieces I'd definitely trade). I have bunches of books. I think Ki and I see uniqueness, and treasures, and funky hip shabby chic where she'd just see junk, something to put in the room until you could get something new. But even as I type this, I realize I don't care all that much what she thinks of my fabulously ecclectic taste.

*And now for some twisted logic: I have been working on decluttering for a while now. And a few things came up for me. One is that T. or other new-to-me visitors will look at the house (which I feel is still a mess) and think "wow, it used to be worse?" I'm not sure it *looked* worse, but there weren't really systems and such, so functionally, it was worse. This is perhaps why Ki and I "see" a difference when it's really still about the same visually, with one or two improvements. So this goes with the judging thing. And it's stupid, really, because I know you can't control another's reactions or judgements, and I usually pick friends, lovers and the like who value me.

*And some even more twisted brain children: T. asked me last night if I would still be getting rid of all the stuff if she *wasn't* coming down. And I said "yes." I've been doing this for a while now, and I'm going to continue, independent of whether or not she ever sets foot out of her sparkling surroundings. But I realized her question brought up some resistance in me. I'm doing this for myself (and to a lesser extent for Ki because she is impacted by it) and I know that. But there's a part of me that wants to make absoultely sure T. knows it too! Why, I can't say. Not because I'm being mysterious, but because I don't know. I'll have to think about this more. But I can tell you this: if someone else could motivate me to get rid of stuff and clean up in a lasting-change kind of way, I'd have been neat & minimalist long ago.

Today, we're going on a dust bunny round up! Check under a chair, or the couch, or in the corner by the desk. Gather up a handful of those furry little beasts!

Here's a plug for one of my favorite declutter groups, Declutter Support. The list is peopled with good, caring folks, ones who understand cluttering and are willing to listen and give support.

For this exercise, we are going to work with seeing, and then eliminating, some visual clutter.

What bugs you?

That the cat box looks gross?

Is it the precarious stack of books and papers near the bed that cascades over when you try to climb in or out?

How about the pile of shoes by the front door that you constantly trip over?

What about the stack of tupperware on the kitchen counter?

Or the overflowing toothbrush holder in the bathroom?

Pick one thing, something specific, and not gigantic (i.e. the entire garage may bug you but for this exercise you'll have to figure out what part bugs you the most and start there).

Don't pick something you *think* should annoy you. Some people don't mind a few dishes in the sink, or a couple of towels on the floor. Pick something that habitually, when you look at it, or trip over it, makes you crazy.

Now, you're going to learn to see it for what it is and how it got there. You are going to change it, and create a new habit around it.

First really see the mess, the clutter, whatever it is.

• Sit near the mess (or across the room from it) and just look at it. Notice how it makes you feel. Jot down in a notebook, or talk out loud, about what it feels like to have that mess there. Sit there for at least 5 minutes. You're not allowed to clean it up yet!
• Grab a piece of paper and a pencil, pen, crayon or colored pencil. Draw the mess. It doesn't have to be a great work of art. It's actually better if it isn't. A pile of laundry can be a big grey blob. Limit yourself to 5 minutes for this part. Once you've got your lines and circles on the paper, jot down what the mess is, where it is, and how you feel about it.
• Do you remember a time that the "offending items" weren't there? Where were they? Did they live at Macy's or Wal-Mart or Goodwill? Were they originally from your mother's house or the old guest room at your larger, previous home? Did your son bring it home from camp in the 7th grade? If you are jotting things down, write a few words about this. If not, say it out loud.

Now, it's time for solutions:

• Ask yourself: "Why is this here?" Answers might include: because it's easy to put there when I come home from work. Because it doesn't have a proper "home" in my house, because I thought I would like looking at it etc.
• Look at the area again. Now close your eyes. Imagine it doesn't have the mess there. What does it look like? Is it empty? Is something else there? Is the same thing there, but in a beautiful container, or sorted in a way that is easy to maintain and looks great?
• Look at the mess again. Ask yourself: "Do these things belong there?" If the answer is no, we will clean them up, get rid of them, relocate them etc. in a second.
• If the items *do* belong there, ask what you can do to make it so they are not so darn annoying to encounter!
• Really let your creativity go with the question about how to make the mess less annoying to encounter. Write down at least 10 ways you could deal with it. Feel free to be farfetched, e.g. "pay the neighbor's kid a dollar to come over twice a day and restack the magazines" is a perfectly acceptable solution for this exercise.
• Look over the list. Does anything catch your eye? What would it take to implement that idea? Would it make the space look more like what you saw when you visualized it without the clutter? If not, ask yourself what you can do to bring it more in line with what you would like for that little patch of your house.
• If the mess doesn't belong there, figure out where the items that make up the mess belong. The answer may be "in the trash" or "at my daughter's house, because it's hers." If it's a pile of mixed up stuff (bills, magazines, socks, tupperware) sort it out into different containers, putting all like items together, and tossing out anything that is obvious junk.
• Put the boxes in the right area of your house (tupperware in the kitchen or wherever you keep it etc.)
• If the items don't have a new "home" in the part of the house they belong in, either make one now, or put the box as close as humanly possible to where you would like the items to eventually live. Work out of the box for one week and see if that approximate home works for those items. If it works, then make them a permenant home there, and buy them a house if you need to. :)
• If you have a huge amount of items in one box, see if you can't let your least favorite go. Just one. More if you can stand it. Let it move on to someone who needs it, or if it's useful life is over, thank it and release it. I know this is hard. It's good stuff after all, and it's *your* stuff.

Remember: You deserve to not be annoyed by this particular mess. And you have the power to change it, to eliminate a stressor from your life. How great is that?

Concrete example:

Perhaps you read in an organizing book that you should keep your reading materials close to where you read. Now you have a tall pile of Fabulous Thick Magazines by your favorite chair. Only they look messy and they slide over twice a day and almost kill the dog, who naps nearby.

You decide they belong there, because before they were in the kitchen on the counter, where they were not getting read. Congratulations, they have found their *home* (yay!). But perhaps they need a *house.* When you "look" at that place on the floor in your mind's eye, you "see" a wicker basket with a lid, and the dog safely snoozing next to it. The magazines won't fall over or look untidy, and they are conveniently located. Viola!

So, my challenge to you: what bugs you? Are you willing to change that one thing?

I read recently (in the March, 2005 issue of Real Simple--yes I know it's barely February, bear with me here, it's not my decision to pre-date magazines) that "In the dubious-benefits-of-a-college-eductation department: People who receive more than 45 pieces of mail a week are four times more likely to have a college degree than those receiving fewer than 12 " (Real Simple, 134).

I have a PhD. I wonder how many pieces of mail a week that's worth.

I don't *think* I get 45 pieces a week, but perhaps I should count, just to see how close to it I am.

Anyone else want to count mail with me?

Declutterbug action: This one was inspired by my going to grab a pen from my holder and realizing that the pens are all neat and tidy, and they all work.

But the pencils, oy! Blunt, broken, and downright unusable.

Here's your challenge, should you choose to accept it. Join me in sharpening all the pencils in your holder.

Toss any that have been reduced to golf course size (or take them and leave them somewhere people would appreciate having a pencil, like the library).

If you don't have a pencil sharpener, and you have a lot of pencils, you have two choices:

1. Decide you don't use your pencils because they're not sharp. Buy a pencil sharpener, and do the above.

2. Realize you don't really use pencils that much, which is why you hadn't noticed the lack of sharpener until now, and get rid of them.

I like getting junk mail.

Sure it's a waste of resources, and every few years I contact the people who have the power to remove me from all the direct mail lists, because the thought of being a tree murderer gets to me.

But when I'm getting a bunch of junk (usually after I've ordered something, gotten a magazine subscription, or joined an environmental group) I'm great about dealing with it.

What I mean by this is that I rarely keep any of it, nor do I sucumb to ordering a lifetime membership in an organization so I can get a free tote bag. These may seem like little things, but to a clutterer, resisting both keeping what already turned up on your doorstep (the catalog) and avoiding accumulating more through it (i.e. ordering anything) is big stuff.

Everyone in our household has a "mail box" made of one of those stackable in-boxes on a table about a foot from the place where the mail comes cascading into the house via an old fashioned mail shoot. I take my stack and stand over the trash can and recycle bin sorting away. I'll open things that look like they have free address labels in them, because, hey, free labels, and I'll keep a few of my favorite catalogs to look through. Then, out with the rest. Well, except for bills and important financial papers. I admit I do have a "peruse" pile, you know the stuff you need to look at before making a decision about (student loan consolidation offers, etc.) But I go through that every day or two so it doesn't build up into Mail Mountain.

Another thing that has helped me having a "traveling reading pile." When I am going somewhere I'll have a minute to read, I take a catalog or other disposable reading material with me, like a magazine or newspaper. I look at it, then recycle it. It leaves the house and never comes back in. If I absolutely need an article or info on something, I rip it out and put it in a binder when I get home.

I've seen the 30-second rule touted in several places.

Here it is:

If you can do something in 30 seconds, do it now. Right now. Not in 5 minutes, but immediately. You probably spend 20 seconds thinking whether to do it or not, anyway!

Things I use the 30 second rule for:

*One or two dishes.
*End of the day clothes. (Hang up or pile on the chair? The latter is SO tempting!)
*Bedcovers.
*Shoes.
*Mail.

Any other ideas, folks? E-mail me or leave them in the comments section!

"Treat your wastebaskets like babies: Keep them in cluse reach at all times and feed and change them often."

--Harriet Schecter, owner of Miracle Worker Organizing Service (www.miracleorganizing.com)

I'm off this weekend to a Valentine's making party at a friends house a few hours away. She hosts this every year, and every year, I go, create and leave all sticky and covered in glitter, but with a stack of handmade valentines. This ritual reminds me that ultimately, life's not about the "things" but about people.

Next time you go through the day wearing a pair of underwear you don't like, as soon as you get undressed at night (or whenever you get undressed, it's not really my job to forbid you for getting naked at 3:00 PM if you're that way inclined) toss them right in the trash. Don't wash them. Don't harrass yourself by thinking you should save them "just in case."

Think of them as the undergarment equivalent of paper towels. You don't reuse them, do you? Wait, don't answer that.

The world is a big place, with lots of underwear. If some theoretical day way in the future, you find yourself with nary a clean pair at 1 AM when all the local underwear vendors are closed, you can always rinse some out in the sink.

I know someone who takes old underwear on vacation with her, wears them and then tosses them out each day. She comes home with less laundry, and declutters at the same time. And if those underwear are truly too gross or too uncomfortable to take on vacation, what are you doing with them? Out they go! Life is too short to have a wedgie.

NB: This works well with socks, too.

This post is a version of an e-mail I sent to one of the declutter lists I'm on, in response to a question about what I meant by keeping the "wrong" stuff for who I am.

The short version: I've undergone a lot of change over the past several years, and sometimes I'm still lugging outdated "stuff" around with me.

For example, I graduated with my PhD in 2003. I didn't go into academe, but rather started my own events business. I also teach dance, and tantra, and do freelance writing. I don't teach or TA at the university anymore. So, I got rid of most of my old notes, and other academic papers. I kept one copy of each syllabus for the classes I taught, because I sometimes get asked to teach or lecture. I did keep a box of dissertation notes and a huge bookshelf of academic books. I'm not quite ready to let go of the these academic books as I still get joy from knowing they are there and I can find all kinds of cool info if I want. I look at them sometimes, so I still feel justified having them. (And I found out I may have a review job that means I'll need a handful of tomes that are hard to find at libraries.) But if I cease to use them, eventually I'll pass them on.

Clothes are another example. I need to dress up to teach dance (i.e. nice pants that show the leg lines and dress shirts), but the rest of the time I can wear jeans, or outdoor clothes etc. depending on the event I'm running. So, why have clothes that don't fit the lifestyle I have now, just because they are "good clothes" and I spent "good" $$ on them?

Old crafts supplies and abandoned hobbies fit this category for lots of folks, too. Maybe you used to be a quilter, or birdhouse maker, and now you are merely someone who has a big pile of material and wood scraps.

I believe that your books, clothes and other possessions should support the person you are now, and who you want to become, rather than reflecting who you were.

It's easier said than done, as letting go of things also means letting go of our identification with what they represent (e.g. the old suits that meant you were high up in management, the wacky graduate student mugs that lined the wall for late-night coffee breaks, the tiny clothes that implied you were a good mom who cared about how your child looked her first day of kindergarten etc.).

Try this affirmation (or rework it to make it your own): My possessions support who I am and who I would like to become. I easily release that which does not reflect who I am now, or who I am becoming.

One thing that chronically disorganized people need to embrace is this:

If ordinary ways of organizing worked for you, you wouldn't be chronically disorganized. You'd go to Organized Living, or Target, or Office Max. You'd buy some file folders and some containers. You'd toss out your excess and put the remainder in the storage you'd bought. The system would be no big deal. You might find it a little boring to file, but you wouldn't have a big issue with filing as a means of recordkeeping and organization, per se. It would make sense to you, you'd see the payoff, and you'd do it.

Not so for clutters and the chronically disorganized. Some of us need our stuff out where we can see it. Some pile rather than file. Some of us come up with complex systems that seem like a great idea but that aren't sustainable. (Wait, is Green 4B taxes, or mutual funds? Is Yellow 5A Vet bills?) Some of us don't think it's worth it to spend a sunny day sorting through old papers. Some (most) of us have underlying emotional and past history reasons why we clutter.

Take it from me:

Don't create a big organizing system all at once. It's more sustainable to figure out a system for where to put the bills when they come in than to color code the whole home office. Pick one thing, change it, and stick to it as much as possible for a month. (Remember: It takes 30 days to create a habit.)

If you miss the Organizational Bus for a couple of days, no worries. Buy another ticket and hop back on.

If changing a couple things a month doesn't seem like enough to you, think of how much time and energy you'll save if you always knew where your keys were and if you paid your bills every month on time. Those are only two things, yet the impact they can have on your everyday life is great.

So, what one or two things are you going to change? Feel free to post them in the comments if you would like.

Work organically. No, I'm not talking about using paper made from recycled banana peels and vegetable pigment ink, but hey, if you can do that, too, more power to you.

Figure out what little task always trips you up. Maybe it's not having an updated address or phone book and always having to scramble for a number. Perhaps it's that you write things on scraps of paper, and then can't find the correct folder to put them in.

Now, figure out what might work for you. If you could take care of this problem easily, how would you do it? Is there something organizational that's fairly simple for you, that you already do in another area of your life? For example, is your desk a total pit, but your recipes are seriously organized? If so, could you extend that system to those little pieces of paper fluttering around your office? Grab out a pen and paper and describe what you could do.

A concrete example:

I was always writing down books to read, movies to see, venues to rent for events, places to go camping and the like. I have a file folder for each of these, but they were often not readily available, even though I tried to keep them nearbly. This meant stacks of little papers patiently waited to be filed...

I also didn't like putting the wee scraps away, because really, what good is a list of books to read if you have to go un-archive it every time you head out to the library or bookstore? What a pain. At one point, I ended up making "temporary" file folders for them. Bad idea: I then had two or three folders for each thing.

I tend to jot down these gems of information at my desk, or when I'm out and about. So the papers ended up on my desk or in my back pocket or backpack.

One day, while I was doing something else, I realized that there's no real reason they need to be in a file. I keep a journal, and I tape in all kinds of weird little souvenirs: movie ticket stubs, flyers from events I attended,sketches etc. I do this automatically, without much ado. Grab ticket, grab journal, grab tape. Stick in. Done. Why couldn't I do that with my tiny papers?

So, I got out a binder--I liked the idea of being able to add and remove pages as needed--and I taped in all my little scraps: movies on one page, books on the next. I popped in another couple sheets for rental venues for the events I plan. Voila, a system was born. The binder sits on my desk. When a piece of info that I want to keep crosses my desk, I write it in there. If I'm out and I end up with a pocket of little treasures, I tape them in at my earliest convenience. Sure, someday I might alphabetize them or type them into some kind of computer database, you know, after I get done cross-indexing my underwear.

For now, having my list of books all in one place is good enough.

When you are "supposed" to declutter, or think about decluttering, and don't, what do you do instead?

Here's a great decluttering meditation/action.

What you will need:

• Paper and writing utensil.
• About an hour at the place you want to declutter, i.e. don't do this at a coffeeshop or work if you want to clear your home.
• Three bags or boxes.

What to do:

• Sit down and get comfy! Take three deep breaths.
• Close your eyes and think of yourself as a small child. You may get an image, a feeling, hear a sound, or recall a particular childhood memory.
• Ask yourself, "Am I still carrying anything from this time, anything I don't need or that doesn't serve me?"
• Quickly jot down any items that come to mind. (You can look around your space, or mentally scan it if you'd like.)
• Visualize yourself as a slightly older child, and repeat.
• Next, go to your "teen" self, asking the question and jotting down the answers.
• Then connect with your 20-something self, the one who was out on his/her own for the first time, checking in if you are holding on to anything from this time, anything you don't need or that doesn't serve you. Write down anything that you think of.
• Take yourself through to your present age, decade by decade, asking and writing.

Now, it's time for action!

• Take a couple deep breaths and review your list.
• Now, get up and quickly gather everything on the list.
• Keep moving! As soon as you find one item, put it in a bag or on a pile and move on!
• Remind yourself: It's okay to let go of what you no longer need. You are creating room for the things that do serve your highest good.
• Sort the things you collected into three piles: toss, give to charity, pass on to friends.
• Take the piles to their new homes immediately. If you can't do that, write a time in your dayplanner to do so. It's also a good idea to put the bags in the car so you can deliver them the next time you are out.
• If you feel a resistance to doing this, hold on to the feeling that you no longer need these items. You might even want to do a little release or separation ritual, thanking them for their presence in your life and letting them go.

Good luck and let me know how it goes!