Over the past few days I've been trying to declutter and clean my sewing room, yet again. I took DGS to a lampwork beadmaking class last weekend, and now I'm trying to set up a glass and torch station for us in the sewing room. But there's so much stuff in there!
There are fabrics collected over years of travel and oh-isn't-that-pretty-I-could-use-that-someday. There are three sewing machines. There are materials for beading and cross-stitching and knitting and felting and dyeing and ...
You get the idea!
This morning, while devoting another hour to cleaning out that area, I found a card describing a handcrafted pottery bowl I bought in a Sedona gallery about nine years ago. The bowl is sitting on my antique breakfront in the front hall. Why is the descriptive card in my sewing room? Because I don't know what to do with it.
That, my friends, is one of my biggest problems. When I come across something that I don't know what to do with—where to put—I leave it where I found it. Each time I'm cleaning or organizing that room, I find the item again. I pick it up, look at it, wonder what to do with it, and put it down. Pretty soon I don't see it any more.
When the Jazzman first moved in with me, he laughed at the places I put things. A plastic storage box of picture-hanging equipment was on the shelf in the coat closet off the front hall. Why? Because the last time I hung a picture, it was in that hall. And because I know the box is there.
Light bulbs? They're in the upstairs hall, in the small storage space behind the door that leads to the attic. At least they were. The last time I went looking there for a lightbulb, the Jazzman told me they were now in the tool room in the basement. Along with the picture-hanging equipment and all the tools and the step stool. Along with everything an organized handyman would need to fix any problem in a big old early-20th Century house.
Of course. Because he's organized.
Me? I'm just befuddled!
When I try to clean house, I get waylaid by every little this or that which should be put away someplace, if I could only figure out where.
Can you understand why I love my Molly Maids so much? They come every other Friday, and nothing befuddles them. They move through my house like machines, and I'm left with order and fresh smells.
Now that's love!
(The card describing the fabulous handcrafted bowl? It's now in the top drawer of the breakfront on which the bowl rests. Isn't that a step in the right direction?)
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