xeryfyn's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Tangible Grief I want to be able to write about something other than the fact that there is a raging epidemic in my house shredding my sanity. It's funny (in that not so funny oh my god can it get any worse way, you know?) how a little virus can cause such devestation to a two year old. So instead i am going to talk about howI have almost decided to throw out half my household. I have often looked around my house and wondered how on earth I had come to accumulate so many things. How the little stuff manages to breed in the dark corners and non existent storage areas of my little place. Baby stuff I can see. Hand me downs and hand me overs are a fact of life when you have children and thank god for that becuase other wise I dont know how I could clothe them from week to week as they chub out. But all other things, knick knacks I always swear not to buy, books I only ever read once, papers, lord the papers that appear like clockwork every day in my mail box and dont make it quite fast enough to the recycle bin. These days the popular term for it is "clutter" and there are whole shows and magazines and essays devoted to combating the clutter monster and helping to organize the mess from overtaking your life. Alas, for people like me (commonly known as "pack rats") the appearance of such devices only serves to increase the amount of things here as I buy more paper, more boxes, more storage solutions. What I need, in fact, is to pick out the things that I couldnt cope without and then walk away as someone else tosses the things that have no value. Because I lack the capacity to say "No, I wont need that. Ever." I need Clean Sweep. But lacking a reality show that will come by and purge for me, I can try to do it piecemeal myself. Try being the operative word. If you look into my archives, you'll see I revisit this clutter issue a lot. I think about the fact that junk is almost over running me and I know that it probably holds me down more than it lifts me up, but it is still a struggle. I like to think of it as my depression made real. Tangible grief to overshadow my days. 12:04 p.m. - 2004-12-11 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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