Assimilation

We live in a one bedroom apartment with some decent closet space; however, no amount of closet space is going to store all the crap we have both gathered over the past 9 years together. Anne has a vast collection of teaching references and materials - sometimes I feel like I live in a arts & crafts store. I have computer equipment and Boy Scout equipment and other general ... equipment. We both have pictures of friends and diplomas and fun trinkets to display. In all we indeed have too much stuff.

We're both are fans of a TLC show called Clean Sweep. It's a reality program (oh the reality tv) about turning horribly cluttered rooms into nice Trading Spaces-esque rooms by pitching and yard saling away much of the room's contents. (ok no more TLC plugs today) And while we're no organization professionals (you can see for yourself if you come for a visit) last night Anne and I (I think) were beginning the long road to assimilating personal belongings into "our belongings" (dun dun daaaaah).

While cleaning, I came across a number of minor epiphanies: (which I think is an oxymoron because an epiphany is supposed to be large I would imagine)

• I am a hoarder (ok that I knew way before last night)
• I have too much stuff
• I don't seem to finish things I start very easily

So after an evening's worth of work, things of hers that were pulled out are now neatly put away and things of mine are sitting in piles on our coffee table. They will undoubtedly get put back into a box or crate and put into a corner to sit and await the next day when Anne and I decided to clean house a little bit. I guess I'll never learn.

I won't lie and say I enjoy cleaning and organizing - I don't like doing it one bit. There are so many other things I'd rather do with my time ... like type in a random journal kept online for a small handful of readers. But I don't' avoid it either. I will tell myself to pull things out and tidy them up occasionally. However I don't find it cathartic like some wierdos out there who get their jollies by throwing their things out. I'm paranoid - worried I may throw out the one shred of my past that will reunite me with a fond and hazy memory. Just last night while cleaning up, I found some pictures of me when I was pretty young. (Anne says I was the cutest baby. I'll have to post a few for the reading republic to judge.) So there I was thinking about "the way it was." Now I didn't throw away pictures - that would be criminal - but I did let go of some things which had been in a trunk or crate for a long time. I don't feel any better than when I started and what do I have to show for it? One empty crate which its contents were assimilated or trashed. Now all I have is an empty crate. I still don't' know what to do with it. Oh I know... I'll just put all the crap that's on my coffee table into it and put it in a corner.

I guess that brings me to another concern. During the long process of melding properties, decisions are made. At some point some one has to decide, "Hey! Your piece of crap is not good enough. It didn't make the cut. Get rid of it. Yours is the weakest link. Go directly to jail. Do not pass 'Go.' And certainly... do not collect $200." Maybe I'm being a little sensitive to the issue, but I think that's a deeper part of it. Many people will judge you by your belongings. "Oh my God, how could she wear that?" "I've got the super-wowie-zowie newest video card in my computer." "Who's driving that Porche?" And I think trying to decide which of our personal belongings makes the grade to become our mutual belongings is also the decision that "your link to your past memory isn't good enough to stay around."

So in conlusion, since I don't know how to bring this around to a clean ending ... um ... *looking around* ... er ... LOOK OVER THERE!!! *points over there*

*runs away*