I’ve started purging the house, which is how I ended up staring at a pile of binoculars, Ding Dongs, and a vacuum that had been living together in the basement.
Not in the calm, minimalist, color-coded container way you see on Instagram.
More in the “how do we own six tape measures and none of them work?” kind of way.
I want to clear everything.
Every drawer.
Every closet.
Every shelf.
Every mysterious pile of things that somehow multiplies when I’m not looking.
I feel overwhelmed in every space in my house.
There is not one place that feels completely clean or organized — and I hate it.
Why can’t I just clear the decks?
Am I afraid I’ll need the things?
Am I afraid I’m somehow “moving on”?
Nope.
The truth is, my spaces were like this long before Marc died.
Our spaces have been chaotic for a very long time.
For years I loudly blamed Marc for most of it, but if I’m being honest… I was just as guilty.
We had too much stuff.
Even when we both realized we had too much stuff… we kept buying more.
Not necessarily useful things.
Mostly organizational things that were supposed to fix the problem.
In fact, Marc once threatened to divorce me if I bought one more basket, bin, drawer organizer, or miracle storage solution.
In fairness to him, I did keep buying them. In fairness to me, he did not divorce me.
Which is how I ended up with an entire closet full of organizational tools that were apparently meant to organize each other.
The Closet (aka: The Hidey-Hole)
Starting on the main floor.
My closet — or as Marc used to call it — my secret hidey-hole.
It’s where things go when I don’t know what to do with them.
And apparently when I say “I’ll deal with that later,” what I really mean is “I’ll shove this in the closet and pretend it no longer exists.”
At this point I can’t even push the door all the way open.
There is simply… too much.
Clean clothes that don’t fit on the hanging bars.
Couch cushion covers that I’m fairly certain have not been on the couch since at least 2019.
Unopened boxes of things that at one point felt very important but that I now genuinely cannot identify.
Somewhere in there is also a tiny chandelier.
Yes.
My closet has a chandelier.
At one point — briefly — my closet was beautiful.
Marc had moved his clothes out of it because he could no longer deal with my chaos, and for approximately five minutes the space was organized, peaceful, and softly lit by that tiny chandelier like some kind of glamorous boutique dressing room.
That moment did not last.
The hidey-hole reclaimed its territory shortly thereafter.
The Mystery Boxes
There are also several unopened boxes in there.
Boxes that at one point arrived at my house with great promise.
Boxes that I’m fairly certain I ordered late at night with complete confidence that whatever was inside them would absolutely improve my life.
At the moment, I have no idea what’s in them.
They could contain something practical.
They could contain something decorative.
They could contain seventeen phone chargers and a decorative basket I was apparently convinced would finally solve all of my organizational problems.
There’s also a very real chance one of them contains something I bought twice because I couldn’t find the first one.
Which, if we’re being honest, is exactly how the hidey-hole got this powerful in the first place.
Exhibit A: Marc’s Mancave Organizational System
While cleaning out the basement — Marc’s mancave — I discovered this pile (featured at the top of this post) on the couch next to his recliner.
I can picture him sitting in that recliner right now.
Feet up.
Snack cake nearby.
And a small pile of things that made perfect sense to him and absolutely no one else.
The contents of this particular archaeological find include:
• binoculars
• a handheld vacuum
• a box of Ding Dongs (that miraculously still contains a few Ding Dongs)
• a drone controller
• several cords whose purpose is unknown
• and at least one item I’m not confident I can identify
This is 100% pure Marc.
The Purge Begins
If I dig deep, the truth behind all of this probably has something to do with old feelings of being less than.
Of being poor.
Of not having enough.
Stuff can feel like security.
But eventually you realize security doesn’t live in piles of Amazon boxes and duplicate tape measures.
So how do you put that feeling to bed permanently?
I think you have to do the work of the purge.
You have to see the excess.
The waste.
The things that once gave you a tiny burst of happiness and now just take up space.
And then you choose differently going forward.
So the purge begins.
I suspect there will be things I forgot we owned.
Things we definitely didn’t need.
And at least one object that will make me stop for a minute because it belonged to Marc.
Some things will be easy to toss.
Some things won’t.
But either way, the hidey-holes are finally being opened.
And maybe that’s part of this whole process too.
Clearing space.
Not just in closets and junk drawers… but in life.
One closet.
One box.
One slightly embarrassing pile of stuff at a time.
In other news, if you live near the Goodwill in Mount Pleasant, you may want to keep an eye on their shelves in the coming weeks.
There’s a decent chance some very interesting items will be appearing there soon.
Possibly even in duplicate.
