{"id":69,"date":"2017-01-25T01:45:31","date_gmt":"2017-01-25T01:45:31","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/womanoverboard.me\/?p=69"},"modified":"2019-08-06T13:03:43","modified_gmt":"2019-08-06T13:03:43","slug":"stash-or-trash","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/womanoverboard.com\/?p=69","title":{"rendered":"Stash or Trash"},"content":{"rendered":"

I seethe with envy when I go to my friends\u2019 houses and see sparkling, uncluttered counter tops. I secretly look for their \u201cpile of papers\u201d\u2013 checking under the sink in the bathroom, sneaking a peak in a closet when no one is looking. But alas, no paper piles fall on my head.<\/span><\/p>\n

They must be very unpopular, I think. Their desks and counters\u00a0make it look like they have never received a single invitation. Don\u2019t they have any bills? Or, are they so computer efficient that they do it all online? Aren\u2019t they inundated with requests from the dozens of charities that tug at my heart and mind every month? Aren\u2019t they haunted by the same fears that I am? I worry that whatever disease I don\u2019t give to, I\u2019ll get. Who are these perfect people? I wonder if they actually follow the rule: \u201cOnly touch a piece of mail once: throw, file or do.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u21d0 \u00a0 Theirs vs. Mine \u00a0 \u21d2<\/p>\n

If you do\u00a0\u201c<\/span>do<\/span><\/i>,\u201d how<\/span>\u00a0do<\/b>\u00a0you make those decisions so quickly? I start a new \u201cto do\u201d file every month: either because A), I have lost the previous one, or B) the current one is overflowing.<\/span><\/p>\n

I\u2019m looking around at the stacks: blank old postcards from favorite trips I just know I will send someone or put in my scrapbook; a video that says \u201cCaroline\u2019s Birthday\u201d with no date (will have to watch it to see which year it was, so I can file it properly); a box of \u201980s CDs that I found in my son\u2019s closet and couldn\u2019t part with because I want to download them on iTunes\u2013that is, after I take an Apple course. I will put that off as long as possible, because the Apple Store makes me so anxious I can only go in after I\u2019ve taken several pills, which I dislike as they mix poorly with alcohol.<\/span><\/p>\n

My bulletin board is stuffed with family pictures and even some of other people\u2019s families. I have the Obamas\u2019 Christmas picture, so when people visit they think we\u2019re old friends. I also have a picture of my husband and I flanking President Bush, Sr. at a conference. There are invitations to events I attended long ago (so pretty I keep them up to admire) and invitations to events I said I was going to attend and didn\u2019t (thus a reminder to write an apology note). I have coupons for flowers, books, gift certificates from 2010; coupons for free meals if I go listen to someone talk about senior living, and Social Security information I can\u2019t access because I don\u2019t remember the answers to the private questions about my life. <\/span><\/p>\n

On my desk, I have loose photos of my children taken 15 years ago, a broken fan, and registration for the class \u201cOrganizing your Life in Six Short Weeks,\u201d which started three weeks ago. I\u2019m hoping to be a quick learner in half the time!\u00a0My old calendar is still hanging in case I attend a trivia night and there is a question like: What day did February 12th fall on last year? <\/span><\/p>\n

I glance under my desk where my dog used to sleep at my feet. Now there\u2019s a little box with his ashes there, atop a pile of ten old phone books. Murray passed away when we were in the throes of wedding planning woes.\u00a0I do intend to bury his ashes under a large stone that just arrived. The inscription reads: <\/span>Murray, Wagging all the Way Down<\/span><\/i>, which was how my son described his sad but \u201cupbeat\u201d departure from this world. Having Murray\u2019s ashes under my desk is somewhat comforting, even though neatniks may think it untidy.<\/span><\/p>\n

I\u2019ve purchased more than the average number of books on organization\u2014and read at least half of them. I never seem to be able to find one when I need it. I know <\/span>The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up <\/span><\/i>is here somewhere, but it seems to have magically disappeared under the stacks of memorabilia that give me so much joy.<\/span><\/p>\n

I considered taking a class called \u201cTrash or Treasure\u201d to help me choose what\u2019s worthy of keeping. Ironically, it is full. So, there must be\u00a0<\/span>some<\/b>\u00a0people out there like me who need help. To assuage my self-doubt, I repeat daily: <\/span>I\u2019m good enough, I\u2019m smart enough, and doggone it, people like me<\/span><\/i>\u2026 even if I AM messy.<\/span><\/p>\n

\"img_2743\"

Grandma’s Memory Books<\/p><\/div>\n

No matter how much I repeat this mantra, I still can\u2019t throw away a receipt from a restaurant where I had lunch with my grandchildren when they were in town two weeks ago, because I think they\u2019d like to know someday that Grandma took them to lunch. This could be important family history. Let\u2019s say I am gone\u2013in heaven, I hope\u2013and they are visiting St. Louis in later years. Suddenly, they find themselves at Schneithorst\u2019s (hopefully, it still exists), and one will ask: \u201cGee, didn\u2019t we have lunch with Grandma here when we were four and six?\u201d The other will quickly respond, \u201cYes, I just saw the receipt last night in Grandma\u2019s Memory Book #52!\u201d\u00a0 Imagine how much richer this will make their adult lives!<\/p>\n

I have no receipts from\u2013nor even pictures of\u2013my grandma.\u00a0 I would give at least one of the boxes of paper treasures in my house to have a letter or card from her. Even though we didn\u2019t go to restaurants back then, it would be fun to have the grocery receipt from a dinner she cooked. <\/span><\/p>\n

I love digging a purse out of the back of my closet and finding a receipt from a New York restaurant in 2011. It brings back all kinds of wonderful memories. I want to share my excitement, so I stop to text my daughter a copy of the receipt. \u201cDo you remember that dynamite sushi roll we shared on October 12<\/span>th<\/span>, 2011 at that little restaurant across the street from Rockefeller Center?\u201d \u00a0Blink! Wow, she uncharacteristically gets right back to me! \u201cMom, get a grip, throw out the receipts.\u201d I smile at her sense of humor and realize that she is young and doesn\u2019t realize the value of history.<\/span><\/p>\n

\"stashortrash\"

To do tomorrow– “After all, tomorrow is another day.”<\/p><\/div>\n

Are there other family historians out there who feel this primal need to save? A need so deep, so entrenched in the very fiber of your being that when you try to clean out your\u00a0basement, you can\u2019t throw away old margarine containers with dried-up watercolor paints and the brittle paint brushes your children used? All those artistic treasures fill the many dress and shoe boxes in each of their closets.\u00a0Yes, I\u2019ve kept all that. And when I look at the rounded margarine tubs with their yellow corn cobs dancing merrily around them, I think: this relic will be worth something someday. And I\u2019m sure my grandchildren will be thrilled to put water in the same plastic tub that their mother used. So, after visualizing my children painting in this basement and hearing their sweet little voices screaming, \u201cNo, that\u2019s MY color red!!\u201d, I realize the day has gone by. And I\u2019m no closer to diminishing the clutter that surrounds me.<\/span><\/p>\n

Saved by the bell!\u00a0Ironically, it\u2019s Goodwill calling to ask if I have anything to donate. I pause for a moment, wistfully taking in the dusty treasures surrounding me, and answer, \u201cNo, sorry, nothing right now.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

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I seethe with envy when I go to my friends\u2019 houses and see sparkling, uncluttered counter tops. I secretly look for their \u201cpile of papers\u201d\u2013 checking under the sink […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":1543,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[27],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-69","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-blog"],"aioseo_notices":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/womanoverboard.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/69","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/womanoverboard.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/womanoverboard.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/womanoverboard.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/womanoverboard.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=69"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/womanoverboard.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/69\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/womanoverboard.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/1543"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/womanoverboard.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=69"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/womanoverboard.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=69"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/womanoverboard.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=69"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}