Pesky pens

Yesterday I began unpacking some boxes, and I managed to get rid of two full garbage bags full of stuff. I mostly got rid of papers I didn't need and little boxes I had saved in case I needed to mail something some day and anything to used to donate. When I was unpacking the boxes though I kept finding pens, so I went upstairs to the computer room and mustered every pen, pencil and marker I could find. I kept about half and the other half I bundled up as you can see in the picture above and gave away. I found more pens after I took that picture (huge shocker), which I gave away as well and I am vowing to do the same with any other pen I find in this process.

In memory of the loving cups

When my mother gives me something second hand, I often feel compelled to keep whatever it is she gave me. It's not that I think she will be upset if I give whatever it is away, it's that the object is attached to a memory of her. I worry that if something happens to her all I will have are these objects to trigger my memories of her.  So I've been thinking about this a lot lately and here is why I shouldn't be holding onto these things.  My parents only have two children, myself and my sister, so in the event of their death, they have a house full of things that we grew up with, that hold much more valuable memories for us than the things she no longer needed and gave away to me.  So when my parents pass away (hopefully a long time from now) my sister and I will have plenty of things to remember them by.

An example of this are these loving cups. My sister used to work on a cruise ship. One year my parents attended a cruise that she was working on and they collected these cups that were given away during dinner. My mother had no need for them so she decided she would give them to me. I thought they were great at the time, they were colourful and looked almost medieval. Over time the paint chipped and I stopped using them, yet I still held onto them because they were given to me by family. So I've taken this picture, wrote this post and now I will have them forever in virtual form. Somehow taking a picture helps me let go of the actual objects. Since I had stopped using them, all I was doing was looking at them anyway and this helps free up space in the cupboard for things I use. These we amongst the other items in my first bag donated in my quest to declutter my life. They are gone and out of my house forever.

Day 1 - The fridge

Chris was emptying the RV for the winter and piled the contents of campers fridge in bags on the living room floor. I think the decision to start with the fridge was made for me.  The fridge didn't seem that bad, probably because we had downsized when we moved here. I still managed to eliminate several containers by combining like contents. We had duplicates of mayo, ketchup, margarine, butter, coffee and peanut butter. I really hope the little humans don't notice but I mixed the "healthier" peanut butter in with the "regular" peanut butter, it might be the only way it will get consumed before the expiry date.

After the fridge, I tackled the cupboards and got rid of a few things there. I started a food bank bag for the items I know we don't need (who needs three jars of relish). I also discovered forgotten rice crispies in a yogurt container that I dumped because honestly they smelt like plastic. Then against every fiber of my being, I threw the yogurt container in the recycling instead of storing it for reuse.

combining chipotle mayo 

forgotten rice crispies

Wouldn't want to break up a set!

Before I go any further, I should explain the name of this blog. It all stems from a family joke. My Grandma Flo was a true hoarder (a very organized one I must admit). On the surface, everything seemed fairly normal. However, if you were paying attention, the signs were everywhere. I remember when we were children my grandma went out of town for a few days, that's when my mother and aunt took us (myself, sister and cousins) to grandmas place to give it a good clean out. When we looked under the bed, we found every phone book grandmas must have owned over her entire life span. It was like stepping into a time machine. We sat there for hours dragging them out and saying "look at this one." The pictures on the front were fascinating to us, mostly old cars if I remember correctly. Well, when grandma got home she was furious, I wasn't there for the argument, but supposedly she threatened to cut us all out of the will (again). I don't blame her really, if someone came into my home and threw out a bunch of my stuff (no matter how invaluable they assumed it to be), I would be furious as well.

Grandma passed away in 2010. For about a week after her death, our family would go to the funeral home during the day and at night we would gather at her house to share memories, laugh, cry, drink and begin to sort through her belongings. Sorting through her things so soon may seem harsh but with everyone coming from all over the country and having to return to work, things needed to be done right away.  The rummaging began, and items were separated by their future fate; trash, donate or keep. One night the drinks were flowing, and things got out of hand, first they came across a bra and underwear set in a clear plastic bag with a note that read if I die, bury me in these. Unfortunately, it was too late; we had put her in the ground that morning. We couldn't help but laugh. Grandmas carefully selected burial undergarments were stored in her home in Gander, and she had died at her summer home in Twillingate.  The next thing I remember being brough out of the bedroom was a urine container containing the kidney stones she had passed over the years with notes she had jotted on the side of the container. Well, things degenerated from there and by the end of the night we were all dressed in her clothes, hats (she loved hats), sunglasses and jewelry to boot, even the men of my family were dressed to the nines. My mom tells me I'm not allowed to show the pictures to anyone ever because of how it might look. But I think it looks like we were celebrating the life of a woman we all loved. Towards the end of the night, one of my uncles came up from the basement with a recycling bag full of empty margarine containers and proclaimed "and to my youngest son Brook, I leave my collections of margarine containers"  and he passed the bag to my Uncle Brook.  We all roared laughing, and I believe that's where the joke "I wouldn't want to break up a set" started. They also offered him a few bags of styrofoam meat trays grandmas had religiously washed and stacked in her basement.

Earlier this week I was scrolling through the Facebook newsfeed on my phone when I  noticed my uncle had posted a picture, the picture I've included in this post, and his comment below read "Wouldn't want to break up a set. Lol". I couldn't help but start laughing. Chris even asked me what I was laughing at, but I couldn't explain at the time, I just kept laughing. Maybe you had to know her or someone like her to find it all so hilarious or maybe you have to be like her, and that's why I find it so funny. When I decided I wanted to blog about this experience, I knew immediately what I wanted to name the blog breaking up the set because that's what I aim to do.

Icy start

When we moved, we did so with a bag of ice in the cooler to keep our refrigerated goods cold for the drive. Well, the bag of ice eventually melted almost completely, but upon arrival I still put it straight into the freezer waste not, want not I can still hear my grandma's voice echoing in the back of my mind. Over the last two months, I've asked Chris countless times to smash the bag of ice on the floor to break up the huge chunks that formed during the refreeze. Every time without complaint he does it, I get a few chips, use them and then put the remainder of the bag back in the freezer. Well, tonight he did the same thing, and you can see the result. I was going to go back to the computer room and ask him to try again when I thought this is nuts! I have perfectly good ice cubes in the fridge, and here I am having him smash a bag on the floor trying to break off ice chips. Ugh! And then I dumped the bag of ice in the sink. Even frozen water has its hold over me.  I feel as though paying for it means I need to get my money's worth. It's clear to me now though all I was doing was wasting time and energy.

I'm a hoarder

People often say admitting something is the hardest step, and that may be true in many cases but not in mine. I'm a hoarder, I may not be the worst hoarder out there and by some people's standards I may not even look like I have a problem, but people who are closest to me know that I do, more importantly I know that I do. I'm tired of the constant tidying up, jamming things into (what seems like) smaller and smaller spaces, re-organising for better efficiency and most of all packing and unpacking all of these things every time I move. The thing I'm most fed up with is the stress! The clutter stresses me out, and I would be kidding myself if I said it didn't stress others around me out as well.

Within my extended family hoardings become a joke. It's funny when we're referring to others and their hoarding quirks, but the day to day reality of living with it is frustrating. When the house is a state, I feel anger boiling up inside me, which usually comes to a crest with tears welling up in my eyes followed by actually having to leave to get fresh air or by a short burst of frantic cleaning followed by a state of exhaustion. Even when the house is clean, and everything is in order, I feel a little smothered.  It's especially hard when I move; it feels like it takes a good year before I have found the appropriate spot for everything or to find a piece that goes with another piece of something that I can't do anything with until the two or three or four pieces are reunited.

When I simplify it as much as possible, this is what I want;

1. I want everyone to feel relaxed at home
2. I want to be surrounded by only things I love to look at, love to use or need.
3. I want to maintain a clean space
4. and I want to accomplish this as soon as possible

I'm writing this blog in hopes that it will help to motivate me and hold me accountable if I quite. My goal is to give myself 30 days to clean house and have a fresh start. If I don't, do it now while I have the time I never will.