Boreal Witch

My parents have always had a lot of stuff. I'm not sure if this is because my parents both grew up on farms with their parents (Depression survivors) or because of our time in Barrow. Maybe it's a bit of both. Whatever the reason, stuff just seems to gravitate to my parents, which they happily pile in their house. Their house is so full of stuff that no one can enter the garage without carrying a satellite phone, a week's supply of food, and the jaws of life. That also applies for most of the other rooms in the house. My sisters still have stuff there. I might, in fact, still have some of my stuff there, but if I do, it's been swallowed by all the other stuff and will never be found. Since my marriage to Robinson, I've done a decent job of getting my stuff out of there.

Whenever I stay with my parents I can't help but look through some of Their Stuff. It's like a bad automobile accident. I feel compelled to gawk at Their Stuff.

Any attempt to remove Their Stuff is met with resistance. A typical conversation about Their Stuff usually goes like this:

Me: "Why, Mom? Why do you have all these stuffed animals?"

Mom: "Because you girls used to play with them. Incidentally, I found some of your old school work from Barrow. Do you want it?"

Me: "No, I don't want it. Chuck it. There's two old computer monitors here, do you really need two of them?"

Mom: "Don't touch those, those are your dad's. He might need them if his other monitor breaks."

Me: "Are you planning on his current monitor breaking?"

Mom: "Well, no, but we might need them someday. Are you sure you don't want that school work?"

By far, my sister Blythe has the most stuff at my parent's house, but any attempt to get rid of her stuff is also met with resistance. Surprisingly, not from Blythe. Part of the problem lies in that it's also Josh's stuff - mostly toys that he used to play with when he was two - and Mom can't seem to let go of any childhood object.

Their Stuff had gotten so wide spread that during my trip to Anchorage I spent a good part of the day rearranging half of the downstairs family room. Since my one-year-old niece Ella kept playing with some very fragile glass and ceramic objects, I was terrified she'd break something and a) get hurt, b) suffer the wrath of Mom, or c) get squished by the wobbling plastic shelving that these artifacts were housed on. I moved them with the help of my youngest sister Becky. I also moved the TV and put all the cords behind it, again because of safety.

This way not in the least bit okay with Mom who nearly had a fit when she came downstairs. I can't blame her because I wouldn't want someone to come to my house and rearrange all of my stuff either, but I felt pretty justified. The room looked so much better.

In fact, my anti-clutter brigade is slowly growing. Dad, Blythe, and Josh have all been trying to get rid of some of their excess junk out of my parent's house. Blythe's hoping that the next time we come down to visit, she'll have most of her stuff out of there. Becky's hopping aboard, too. She cleaned out Molly and Ella's closet.

I'm far from perfect and my home is far from clutter-free. Still, I pride myself in being able to keep the clutter at bay or at least hide one pile from another.

Because, you know, clutter is like bunnies.

Blessed be.