Monday, December 10, 2007

It may look like two empty baskets

but this is so much more than two measly, empty baskets.

You see, the thing I neglected to say, the other day, when I was extolling my lost virtues as a neat freak, is that I was also a keeper. I kept everything. Grocery lists, business cards of people I met when I was drunk, pamplets about products I found intriguing, safety pins, stray bandaids I found in my purse. It all got thrown into a basket, and then the lid went on the basket, the basket was placed on the shelf, and it was never looked at again. The baskets got dusted regularily, when the cleaning service came, and all was well.

I looked super-organized, and that was all that mattered.

I packed in a hurry, last year. All the crates were stowed in the basement when I arrived, and for the last year, I have been cherry-picking all those boxes, looking for what I need about 10 minutes after I actually needed it. The basement is a sea of opened boxes, contents spilling out, things piled everywhere, because I was looking for the WD40 (I bought a new can, and found the old one the next day).

I may own one hundred (I'm guessing!) pairs of shoes, but I only actually wear about six. I'm not prepared to talk about handbags just yet.

Tonight, I was down there, shifting things around, making room for new stuff, truth be told, and I saw two little cute grass baskets. I grabbed them, put them aside, thinking since I'm on this cleaning jag, I should maybe throw some stuff out. And if I empty those baskets, well, I could just put something newer and shinier in them, right? It's a small job that I could finish very quickly, and feel a certain amount of satisfaction about.

I am proud to say that the contents of those two tiny baskets were (in order):

  • promptly put in the garbage (even lip gloss from 2001, which clashes with my skin-tone, now that I have highlights).
  • placed with similar items in the suitable place (NyQuil gel caps belong with NyQuil gel caps. It's the poor person's sleep aid).
  • stored on my desk, waiting to be placed with like-items from the 150,000 other baskets still in the basement (Combination lock, and I know the combination is written down, and sitting in another basket. Birth certificate, ordered to replace the birth certificate I couldn't find).

Baby steps, right?

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