I'm in a pretty foul mood. I try not to go here. I really try. Because I'm really ugly when I do go here.
Not sure why I'm feeling so cantankerous but, every room in this blasted house that I walk into is a mess. Not a bit of a mess. A flaming, mad, insane, have no control over my life kind of mess. I feel like 'why bother?' because whenever I work my ass off and clean it, purge it, love it, in no time (and because no one else is tending to it except me, when I do) there are piles of crap EVERYWHERE. I'm tired of asking for people to clean up after themselves and I'm tired of not having enough energy to clean up MY shit because I've been so busy cleaning up everyone else's shit. HOW MANY TIMES DOES A MOTHER and WIFE have TO YELL!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!? Or ask. This leads me to the road of guilt trips...and I don't want to bestow that kind of legacy on my children and husband. God knows that I've had to unlearn it.
I don't like the monster I become when I'm this tired, anxious, panicked about the sheer amount of house and farm work that there is to do. Most days, I can balance this out in my head or be reasonable about it. The laundry will always be there. The floors will always need vacuuming. The desk will always need sorting. The beds will always need making. But, at this point, I have to choose planting my garden over purging the piles of accumulation that we seemed to have thought we needed over the past 6 years since living here. We moved here with 3 years of combined accumulation too and didn't have time to sort it before we had to move, so it all moved here too. You wouldn't believe the sheer number of boxes that line our wrap around porch, the driving shed (can't move in there) and now we are starting to use the barn. HOW can a family possibly need this much stuff?!??!?!
One of the problems, I realize, is that we don't say 'no'. My motherinlaw has an impeccable house but that is because she is constantly sorting and throwing out. When stuff comes 'in'; stuff has to go 'out'. It's a good system. So WHY does she think that we need a pile of her stirrup pants, tshirts and plaid shirts? I'm going to have to tell her to give them to GoodWill or Sally Ann or Value Village or the local church. We seriously have waaaaaaaaaaaaaaay too much stuff for a garage sale of our own. It would scare even the most steadfast garage saler.
The porch and our family room is full of computer bits that might or might not work. My husband is terrified of chucking this kind of stuff out or donating it. Speakers that aren't attached to anything just sitting (that I have to dust and move out of the way) or spindles of cd's that aren't sorted in ANY sort of manner in which you could actually find something to watch. Spindles of cd's are ugly. CD's in cases at least stack half decently. This same porch is home to rugs, boxes and boxes upon boxes of books, furniture that we don't have room for IN the house, trunks and boxes of clothes, boots, shoes, and, books. We don't own a single flaming bookshelf in this home and we are ALL bookhogs. It would seem to me that bookshelves might be a priority.
Every room, or space that I walk into on this property stresses me. There is no peace, tranquility, put togetherness, or pride of ownership or design in ANY space that we inhabit. What does this say about us? Or me...?
I can't do this anymore. It's all just STUFF. I mention to my husband tonight that we have too much stuff everywhere and need to get rid of some of it. He asks, like he's hurt and hasn't done anything wrong or that EVERY bit of this stuff is precious, and says "what can I possibly need to get rid of? What do I have?" Fuck man, LOOK around this house!!!!!! The driving shed!!! The porches!!! The barn!!!!!! I'm not saying this is all of his doing but I can't imagine HOW he's oblivious to it!?!?! He brought home a tv from the dump the other week, that doesn't work with any of our remotes, so it's now sitting in front of the freezer on the porch, in a space that I organized, tidied and made ready for 'shop-work' for him. Some power tools and a sturdy workspace, hammer, goggles, other tools hung nicely. You can't move over there now. AND now there's a tv on the floor in front of it all, so you have to crawl over it.
DON'T get me started on the recycling.
OR the 14 ft. cedar boat in the barn with no sails.
OR the paddleboat with the hole in it in the garden.
That's it...it's going. We have no need for THIS much 'stuff'. This is ludicrous. In the event of a pandemic or global or national crisis, we aren't ready. We have stuff coming out the yin yang but no gallons of water or candles. HOW stupid is THAT!?!?!??!
How guilty we've been of buying into the notions of 'more' for the sake of 'more'. Now, it's clutter. And I'm suffocating beneath it.
I'll start with my stuff first.
Not sure why I'm feeling so cantankerous but, every room in this blasted house that I walk into is a mess. Not a bit of a mess. A flaming, mad, insane, have no control over my life kind of mess. I feel like 'why bother?' because whenever I work my ass off and clean it, purge it, love it, in no time (and because no one else is tending to it except me, when I do) there are piles of crap EVERYWHERE. I'm tired of asking for people to clean up after themselves and I'm tired of not having enough energy to clean up MY shit because I've been so busy cleaning up everyone else's shit. HOW MANY TIMES DOES A MOTHER and WIFE have TO YELL!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!? Or ask. This leads me to the road of guilt trips...and I don't want to bestow that kind of legacy on my children and husband. God knows that I've had to unlearn it.
I don't like the monster I become when I'm this tired, anxious, panicked about the sheer amount of house and farm work that there is to do. Most days, I can balance this out in my head or be reasonable about it. The laundry will always be there. The floors will always need vacuuming. The desk will always need sorting. The beds will always need making. But, at this point, I have to choose planting my garden over purging the piles of accumulation that we seemed to have thought we needed over the past 6 years since living here. We moved here with 3 years of combined accumulation too and didn't have time to sort it before we had to move, so it all moved here too. You wouldn't believe the sheer number of boxes that line our wrap around porch, the driving shed (can't move in there) and now we are starting to use the barn. HOW can a family possibly need this much stuff?!??!?!
One of the problems, I realize, is that we don't say 'no'. My motherinlaw has an impeccable house but that is because she is constantly sorting and throwing out. When stuff comes 'in'; stuff has to go 'out'. It's a good system. So WHY does she think that we need a pile of her stirrup pants, tshirts and plaid shirts? I'm going to have to tell her to give them to GoodWill or Sally Ann or Value Village or the local church. We seriously have waaaaaaaaaaaaaaay too much stuff for a garage sale of our own. It would scare even the most steadfast garage saler.
The porch and our family room is full of computer bits that might or might not work. My husband is terrified of chucking this kind of stuff out or donating it. Speakers that aren't attached to anything just sitting (that I have to dust and move out of the way) or spindles of cd's that aren't sorted in ANY sort of manner in which you could actually find something to watch. Spindles of cd's are ugly. CD's in cases at least stack half decently. This same porch is home to rugs, boxes and boxes upon boxes of books, furniture that we don't have room for IN the house, trunks and boxes of clothes, boots, shoes, and, books. We don't own a single flaming bookshelf in this home and we are ALL bookhogs. It would seem to me that bookshelves might be a priority.
Every room, or space that I walk into on this property stresses me. There is no peace, tranquility, put togetherness, or pride of ownership or design in ANY space that we inhabit. What does this say about us? Or me...?
I can't do this anymore. It's all just STUFF. I mention to my husband tonight that we have too much stuff everywhere and need to get rid of some of it. He asks, like he's hurt and hasn't done anything wrong or that EVERY bit of this stuff is precious, and says "what can I possibly need to get rid of? What do I have?" Fuck man, LOOK around this house!!!!!! The driving shed!!! The porches!!! The barn!!!!!! I'm not saying this is all of his doing but I can't imagine HOW he's oblivious to it!?!?! He brought home a tv from the dump the other week, that doesn't work with any of our remotes, so it's now sitting in front of the freezer on the porch, in a space that I organized, tidied and made ready for 'shop-work' for him. Some power tools and a sturdy workspace, hammer, goggles, other tools hung nicely. You can't move over there now. AND now there's a tv on the floor in front of it all, so you have to crawl over it.
DON'T get me started on the recycling.
OR the 14 ft. cedar boat in the barn with no sails.
OR the paddleboat with the hole in it in the garden.
That's it...it's going. We have no need for THIS much 'stuff'. This is ludicrous. In the event of a pandemic or global or national crisis, we aren't ready. We have stuff coming out the yin yang but no gallons of water or candles. HOW stupid is THAT!?!?!??!
How guilty we've been of buying into the notions of 'more' for the sake of 'more'. Now, it's clutter. And I'm suffocating beneath it.
I'll start with my stuff first.
No comments:
Post a Comment