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copyright ©1999-2003 |
If
you’re like me, you’ve read – Wait. Start over. If you’re like me, you’ve pulled twenty-five pairs of shoes out of your closet to get at your “to be filed” boxes, and then spent hours sifting through your piles of receipts, old Christmas cards, miscellaneous scraps of paper, and grade school homework, in order to find those magazines you’ve been meaning to look at. Then
you’ve read article
after article purporting to give advice on how to organize, streamline
your housekeeping, and deal with all that stuff. As one of
two packrats sharing a one-bedroom apartment, I’m always on the
lookout for help with my “stuff problem.”
The expert neatniks who pen this advice are full of ideas on what
to do with your belongings, but they all start with the assumption that
what you really want is to reform your packrat ways.
Sternly, they admonish that the first step in any neatness
campaign is to throw out as much stuff as you can.
After all, you don’t need
most of it; it’s just an obstacle to their prescribed housekeeping
plans. Being a packrat is looked upon as a personality flaw, an
illness to be cured. I don’t
know about you, but I don’t want
to stop being a packrat. It’s
who I am. And the narrow
interpretation of what people “need” doesn’t cover me.
Sure, a lot of my stuff serves no practical purpose, but that’s
not the only kind of need. Some
of my stuff has sentimental value.
Some of it ensures that I’m never lacking a Halloween costume.
Some of it is just, well, neat.
I don’t want to reform; I want to manage the stuff I have,
without judgments about whether it’s too much. With that in
mind, I’m going to share some tips on how I coexist happily with my
stuff – a guilt-free lesson in how to be a happy, healthy packrat. step
one: take inventory. ---------------------------> lounge . nourish . host . laze . home.
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