Cleaning up, paring down

Let me start by saying I haven't yet watched Tidying Up with Marie Kondo, but once I resolved to write about paring down I realized maybe I should.

My furniture finally made it's way down to my new house (thanks mom & dad!) and I was able to take my clothes, books and decorations out of boxes and bags and populate my dressers and bookshelf. As I was doing that, I took a critical look at the things I owned. I didn't necessarily ask if things brought me joy, but I was serious -- had I actually missed this item?

It was just the tip of the iceberg, but it did make a difference.

I brought a few boxes to drop off at a donation center and, shortly after, went to work where I heard a little more about this Marie Kondo craze people have been on since the show took to Netflix. While I haven't started folding clothes in a different way, or questioning my emotional response to items, I wouldn't be surprised if it lies in my future.

There was a third category of "stuff" I assembled while unpacking that I didn't need handy nor really want in my line of sight. "Stuff" that I pushed into boxes and slid under my bed or stored in the attic. "Stuff" that I didn't necessarily want right now, but wasn't ready to give up quite yet. Looking back, I wonder why we have that distinction.

Why do I have a box full of memorabilia t-shirts that I'll likely never wear again, but still want to hold onto so that once a year or so I can be sentimental? Why do I have certain books that I want on my bookshelf and another set that stay in a box under my bed that maybe someday I'll reread?

Sure, some of it comes down to space with the books. If I put them all on my shelves right now, I wouldn't have room to display art or photos of loved ones. But the larger question remains -- why do we let hypotheticals prevent us from giving stuff up, giving it to someone who would actually use it?

I don't have an answer for that quite yet.

I know that I should give up easily 50 percent of my t-shirts. I know I'll probably never re-read the SparkNotes edition of Hamlet any time soon (aptly named No Fear Shakespeare). I know some bright, colorful, cheesy decorations from my college apartment won't be displayed in my home in the near future. But I'm not quite ready to part ways with the memories associated with them. I'm working on it -- sometimes memories are memories, and items are just items.

Maybe in a little while, when the next wave of inspiration or pseudo-spring cleaning hits, I'll do another round of cleaning and paring down. Maybe that time, I'll part ways with some old pieces and donate them. Or maybe I won't -- maybe I'll find a new love and restored purpose for them. Until then, I'm going to enjoy my room as it is. Happy tidying, everyone.