November 12, 2013
One of the things that brings me great joy is getting rid of stuff. I’m not sure what the opposite of a pack rat is, but I’m it. A trip through the donation drop-off line helps me breath easier. It’s like therapy. It’s because I have moving issues.
I generally operate from the idea that if it hasn’t been used in 3 months or so, it should go (a few seasonal items excluded).
The problem is, no one in my house shares my love of purging things.
On the contrary, most of them nearly keel over at the thought of parting with that broken toy from the fast food restaurant, the pile of itty bitty teeny tiny pieces of cut paper that looks suspiciously like trash, or that bouncy ball that defies the law of physics and bounces everywhere except where normal people expect and is sure to smack someone in the eye.
I used to announce when I was going to get rid of something. Silly me. Now I just use an “on the way out” box. Do you have one?
When I find something around the house that bothers me, or I have to pick up multiple times a day, or isn’t otherwise bolted down in some way, I simply sneak it into my closet and put it in my “on the way out” box.
No one knows about this box. Hopefully they will not read this post.
I put the item in the “on the way out” box where it lives until my next trip through the drop-off line. Until then, unless someone specifically asks for said item, it just quietly disappears. Out of sight, out of mind. It’s one of my mottos.
99% of the time no one misses anything, but for the 1% of the time someone does and they ask me if I’ve seen it, I enjoy the added benefit of being a hero when I make it magically appear.
Temporarily of course.