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"Equal and Opposite Reactions is a rollicking good yarn about complex relationships and emotions in middle-class American culture. The author has created an incredibly funny romantic comedy, which transcends the ubiquitous romantic triangle and expands it into a quadrangle, complicated by the interweaving of relationships between the children of the principal characters. Cleverly plotted, twists and turns, and exceptionally well written, this part drama and part slapstick comedy is a tour-de-force. Bravo Patti."
- R. Bruce Logan, "The Narrative Arc"
- R. Bruce Logan, "The Narrative Arc"
The Joy Of Stuff
Until a few days ago I'd never seen or even heard of the Netflix TV series "Tidying Up," which I guess is not surprising considering that I generally don't watch television, being myself more of a movie buff.
Hence I had no frame of reference for the following quip, which has been showing up at least once or twice a day for the past few weeks on my Facebook feed:
Hence I had no frame of reference for the following quip, which has been showing up at least once or twice a day for the past few weeks on my Facebook feed:
It was at last week's meeting of the Panera Posse, my group of gal pals who meet every Wednesday at Panera (see post from 7/2/2105, "Just Another Morning with the Posse"),
...that I learned about "Tidying Up" and Marie Kondo, the host of the show who apparently teaches people how to part with their superfluous stuff by having them ask themselves of every object that they own whether said object gives them joy. If the answer is "no" then the object goes.
Actually I'm kind of having trouble wrapping my head around this approach. Decluttering I understand. You got too much stuff, you get rid of some of it, it feels good.
I also understand about being organized. Not that I am. But I understand the concept.
But this idea of the retention or disposal of items being based on whether or not they give one joy...that doesn't compute too clearly in my cerebral hard drive.
I spent some trying trying to figure out why I can't relate to Marie Kondo's modus operandi before it finally hit me: Most of my stuff doesn't give me joy. I mean, I guess I like most of my stuff well enough to share space with it, but joy? That's an emotion with a lot of propulsion behind it.
I also understand about being organized. Not that I am. But I understand the concept.
But this idea of the retention or disposal of items being based on whether or not they give one joy...that doesn't compute too clearly in my cerebral hard drive.
I spent some trying trying to figure out why I can't relate to Marie Kondo's modus operandi before it finally hit me: Most of my stuff doesn't give me joy. I mean, I guess I like most of my stuff well enough to share space with it, but joy? That's an emotion with a lot of propulsion behind it.
In taking stock of my stuff, I’d venture to say that most of what I own is utilitarian in nature,
…with some decorative pieces to fill in the blank spots.
But does any of that stuff have any strong emotional pull for me?
Eh.
Eh.
I confess that I do have a whole closet full of stuff that falls into that no-man’s land of I don’t love-it-or-need-it-everyday–but-I-need-it-a-few-times-a-year-or-I-might-need-it-someday-or-my-kids -might-want-it, to include among other things blankets for when we have a houseful of company over the holidays, some spare warm clothes, my kids' photo albums,
...as well as some wedding supplies and decorations I got on the super-cheap years ago for one of my kids' weddings that I've been lending out and/or saving for any future family or friend weddings that might roll around.
Chair covers with light blue sashes. Anybody need 'em?
I don't know if Marie Kondo approves of you keeping that kind of stuff.
But is there anything among my stuff that actually gives me joy?
Okay, there is my electric water kettle. I drink tea all day long and hence I'm frequently filling the kettle with water, pressing the button, and one minute later pouring my tea. I must admit that my tea ritual sort of gives me joy. Or at least it gives me tea. Which I guess gives me joy.
| And there are the LGBTQ and transgender rights flags hanging over my front porch. Seeing those as I come and go gives me some joy, |
...as does my living room lamp,
...which Tom has noted resembles the Martian invaders in the 1953 movie classic "War of the Worlds,"
...a movie I happen to own because it likewise gives me joy, as does my television, on which I've often watched the above movie and many others.
| I do receive joy from my photo albums, |
...and from my laptop, and from my blog, which I guess, technically speaking, isn't a "thing,"
| ...and from my book, |
...and from my Mickey Mouse sweatshirt worn with my soft, fuzzy pajama pants, which are about the only clothes that give me joy,
...unlike the the rest of the clothes that take up my half of Tom's and my bedroom closet. In truth I see clothes mainly as something I have to put on to avoid going around naked. Every now and then some of my clothes wear out or don't fit right anymore or I get tired of them so I get rid of them and buy some new ones with no expenditure of emotion.
I likewise am not given joy by the dressers wherein reside the remainder of Tom's and my clothes. These dressers belonged to Tom’s great-aunt,
| …as did our bed, |
…and were passed down to us when his great-aunt died shortly after we were married forty-two years ago. I figure our bedroom furniture must be a hundred years old but is still perfectly usable and still solid and sturdy as an oak, as is my sewing table, which was my father’s desk in his first medical office.
But after 42 years of looking at these pieces I’d kind of like to thank them for their service then give them the heave-ho and replace them with some bright, kicky Ikea pieces which might give me joy briefly until they fell apart.
Same goes for the furniture in this bedroom. These pieces also came from Tom’s great aunt but are newer than the ones in our bedroom.
Same goes for the furniture in this bedroom. These pieces also came from Tom’s great aunt but are newer than the ones in our bedroom.
I figure from the hardware on the drawers that the dresser and vanity must date back to the early 1950’s.
In truth I’ve always found these pieces rather ponderously ugly and oppressive. Especially the vanity.
On the other hand I’m sure they were top-of-the-line and expensive at one time. And we got them for free. And they were functional. You could fit a slew of stuff into their big, boxy drawers.
But now the drawers of the vanity are empty so I guess I could get rid of it.
But then there would be a big empty spot in the room.
And so I keep it.
But then there would be a big empty spot in the room.
And so I keep it.
As the Dude* would say,
...It really ties the room together.
I also have a number of storage pieces, a second-hand desk,
...a colossal armoire,
| ...a dresser from Tom's childhood bedroom set, |
...that since all my chicks have flown the nest now sit empty or almost. But if I get rid of them the rooms will be bare and sad. Unless I replace them with other stuff.
I expect that having not enough stuff can be as oppressive as having too much.
It's probably all a matter of acquiring the right stuff.
I expect that having not enough stuff can be as oppressive as having too much.
It's probably all a matter of acquiring the right stuff.
| *The Dude was the philosophical anti-hero who owned a rug which gave him joy the fantastic flick "The Big Lebowski." |
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