Do you rescue things, too? And, by rescue, I mean drag home things in need of repair or things with no real use to you, but they have a cool patina, shape, etc.
Now, if you actually refinish that table or recover the chair or re-purpose the wall cabinet with only one door,
and this is truly a passion of yours, then I'm not talking to you. But if you bring this stuff home with the intention of rehabilitating it, but never do, then what I'm about to tell you will shock your socks off.
Stuff requires action (maintenance, dusting, storing, refinishing).
Action requires time.
You have a limited amount of time in your day.
What passion are you ignoring because you don't have enough time? (if a lightbulb didn't go on here, close facebook and reread this)
Now I've been decluttering since about a year after my divorce 5 years ago. I would take a load to Goodwill and feel very accomplished because there was a trunkful of stuff that was no longer in my house. But meanwhile, I'm still dragging crap home. Aaannnnd, trying to make all the furniture needing repair and reupholstering look good though I had no time to take on these projects. Oh, I've bought the fabric and the staples. They're in a box in my studio. They've been there for 3 years.
About two weeks ago, my husband and I were talking and he told me he wanted to get rid of everything in the living room, redo the wood floors, and the start looking for the perfect couch. My first thought was how sad. He's lost his mind. It took him multiple attempts for me to finally understand what he was trying to achieve. But here's the gist of it:
Him: "Ideally, what would you like to have a big chunk of time to do?"
Me: "That's easy. Painting."
Him: "So look around you. All this stuff, this clutter of mismatched furniture, is draining you visually and using up your time and energy in its upkeep. Time and energy you could be using to paint."
Me: *dumbfounded look of realization spreading across my face* (in reality, this didn't occur until the fourth time he explained it)
Him: "Now imagine this room with a beautiful, perfect floor. And the most beautiful, comfortable couch in it and nothing else."
Me: "Nothing?!" (I was back to he's lost his mind again)
Him: "Not yet. Each piece that we put in here will be beautiful. It will go with the overall design. We will love it. Can you see how restful and elegant it will be? (He uses elegant with this definition: gracefully concise and simple; admirably succinct) And your energy and time can go towards your painting and working towards making that your career.
Damn! It's so irritating when he's right. And he's right a lot. Life will be weird for a couple of weeks for sure. And I'm keeping the antique chest of drawers with the slightly patinaed mirror, Buster! The new couch will just have to go with it. Meanwhile, I'm employing this strategy in my studio. I've got to haul a trunkload to Goodwill, but otherwise that is the most organized and decluttered my studio has ever been. Sure, it could be de-stashed even more. But, people! I've got a lot of furniture to move out of the living room! Anybody need a treadmill?
I figure that's what I'll put the old photos in!
Posted by: Anne Kelly | Wednesday, July 07, 2010 at 09:07 AM
Does this mean you don't want the cedar chest? Mom
Posted by: Patricia Bishop | Saturday, July 03, 2010 at 06:48 PM