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Housekeeping

Clutter Housekeeping Marriage Spouse

Parting is Such Sweet Sorrow…..

July 30, 2016

When it comes to decluttering, the world seems to consist of two types of people: those who are able to divest themselves of inanimate objects once they’ve outlived their usefulness, and those who would sentimentally cling to an old rubber band.

Darned if I know why letting go of things is so difficult for some people, and so much easier for others, but I do know this.  If you happen to be living with someone who is a “keeper” and you are inclined the other way, I suggest purchasing a helmet in preparation for repeatedly running up against that stone wall.  Trust me.  I speak from experience. Continue Reading

Clutter Housekeeping Spouse Technology

House (Not So) Beautiful

August 2, 2014

I hope you’re not angry with me because I haven’t invited you to dinner lately.    I’m aware that you have had us over a couple of times, and I have not reciprocated.  The truth is, I would love to.   But there is a major problem.  I no longer have a dining table.

You see, my husband has undertaken the redecoration of our home.  In contrast to my affinity for the minimalist, uncluttered look, he seems to favor a very different style.  The new decor has a contemporary motif based on two design principles of his own creation.

Principle I:  Nature abhors a clean surface.
Principle II:  Every electrical outlet must contain at least one, if not two, charger cords.

It is the former that has prevented me from being a gracious hostess.

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Housekeeping Rituals

Temporary Insanity

May 15, 2013

No one has ever accused me of being a fanatical housekeeper. On the Good Housekeeping scale of good housekeeping, with zero being first cousin to a Collyer brother, and 10 being genetically linked to Mommy Dearest, I would fall somewhere around a 6-34.

The truth is, I’m comfortable with a certain amount of clutter. And for better or worse, I’ve learned to live with dog hair. But there are a few occasions during the course of the year when I am completely overtaken by a kind of domestic lunacy.

It has nothing to do with the full moon, and certainly no longer attributable to PMS; I haven’t been able to use that excuse in about twenty years. I’m not sure you’ll find the syndrome written up in the medical journals, though perhaps it should be. Since it is without an official psychiatric label, I will refer to it as “relocation madness.”

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