Deconstructing Shitpiles

I have never been a tidy person.

My cars, backpacks and pocketbooks have, historically, been mobile storage-unit/trashcans. Places to put items until I get up the nerve to put them away or throw them out. This is a problem with time - specifically, the amount of time I (or anyone) is willing to live with and accumulate items before cleaning them up.

For a hoarder, this time comes either with death or intervention or perhaps personal catharsis. I am - so very thankfully - not a hoarder.

For a tidy person, this time comes moment by moment, as they put or throw things away before giving them the opportunity to "settle".

Since adulthood (because I am only claiming responsibility from that point on) I have occupied distinct points on a continuum between hoarder and tidy person, as illustrated by this graph:

Notice the point in 2013 where I begin to put more distance between myself and the hoarder end of the scale. This was initiated by picking up the book by Mari Kondo, The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up. Kondo has since evolved into a brand unto herself, and I cannot comment on what sort of wisdom she is currently peddling, but I did read the book, and it did give me a model for a tidiness mindset, as well as a deliberate process for getting rid of items I no longer needed.

Over several years, I used Kondo's method to scrutinize and evaluate the piles and boxes of heterogeneous nonsense that I had created, and to come to peace regarding how and if to part with the accumulated artifacts of my past. This improved things to the point that messiness became a cyclical state of my surroundings, rather than the status quo.

In the past year, I have been making a concerted effort to make the periods of tidiness last longer - this, primarily facilitated by a clever network of shelves and storage baskets in which to "put things away". When I succeed in using these spaces for their intended purpose, it gives me a warm feeling of pride and self-congratulation, which is prevented from developing into smugness by my husband's constant reminders that I am not doing my dishes, "getting my shit off the kitchen table", or other such tedious chores.

Visiting a friend's house recently, I was shocked to encounter what a truly tidy home actually looks like. The amazing thing is: there just aren't any transient objects on any of the surfaces. Only a few (very few) decorative pieces placed here and there, intentionally. Apparently, in this house, objects are not given the opportunity to "settle" onto surfaces, and as a result, her house always looks like those photographs you see in magazines, the ones that make you say "sure that looks nice but does anyone actually live there?” Well, apparently they sometimes do. Here is a stock photo to give you an idea of what I mean:

I asked her, "Do you have a cleaning person?" The answer was "no" - and I should have known this because, when you don't have a bunch of crap scattered all around, tasks such as wiping and vacuuming become very easy, and unless you are leisure-class rich and/or exceptionally busy, one would have a hard time justifying hiring someone to clean such an easily maintained environment.

I aspire to this - but I am realistic, and thus not sure that I will get there. I believe the state of your surroundings is not a matter of your being "clean" or "messy" or "lazy", but rather more complicated. My friend, over a dinner in which the entree was nested atop the salad plate, which rested on a clever wooden plinth, explained that disorder made her uncomfortable. Keeping things tidy - for her - is an occupation that delivers immediate rewards. She sees a transient object on a surface as an immediate problem - one which she can easily solve, and does.

While I appreciate the dust-free blank slate that such an internal attitude is able to manifest - I'm just not enough bothered by disorder to actually enjoy thwarting it. I kind of grudgingly allow it to creep in until all the things that I just can't bring myself to make an immediate decision about transform into little fraternities of chaos, in various locations around the house. For example:

When you look at this you might think, aside from the essential fire safety tools: "That looks like a bunch of junk." But I think: "What do I do with these rhinestone-crusted I.D. lanyards that the kids wore on vacation last year? They cost $12 each - I can't just throw them out! Maybe they can be used on another vacation? Where on earth would I put them away - do we have an appropriate basket for such things? Should they go in the attic? Maybe Goodwill? But they are missing quite a few rhinestones... And how about this big wooden scoop that I purchased at the antique store in Kentucky, that the dog has chewed up? Do I give it back to her? Is it a dog toy now? It looks very splintery... And here is the post-it-note flip book that my younger son made, that the other dog chewed up. Do I give it back to her? Is that paper safe to eat? She does enjoy chewing paper... And the iPad box - is there anything in there that I need? It is a good, sturdy box. Perhaps it can be used for sending something by mail? Ah - I see a users guide for the hand-strengthening grip that my older son uses... does he need instructions for that? And how about this old telephone? Will I ever get a landline again? I do like to think of myself as a landline sort of person... And what about this dime, this mechanical pencil, this rubber band?”

These are questions that arise, not only when I look at such a pile, but right before I put the object down in the first place - when I release it to be dealt with at another time. But, at my current point on the tidiness spectrum, I do deal with these piles on a regular basis - like so:

Though my studio/office is another problem, as it becomes the catch-all for items that I don't wish to put down in other areas of the house. This is the room where I am currently writing this:

What I fear is that, beyond being not bothered by disorder, I may perhaps be stimulated by it. I guess I would have to experiment with an extended period of tidiness in order to test that one out.

Just so you know: When I provide links to items in my articles, any purchases made via those links will earn me a commission. I will only link to products that I have used and can honestly recommend, and I encourage you to think very carefully before making any purchases, lest they should end up in a shitpile…