Clear Your Space...Clear Your Mind #17

Chapter 10 ~ Summer

                 “Houston, Tranquility base here,

                  the Eagle has landed.”

                                      Neil Armstrong

     It is summer and it is glorious.  As winter is a time for lingering inside, summer is a time for hanging out.  First-rate sunlight, a warm breeze, and the smell of cut grass;  we have entered The Emerald City.  There is nothing I like better than sitting on my front porch, taking it all in, watching the world go by.  I will confess, I know those who prefer the air-conditioned indoors, as opposed to the humid and sometimes oppressive air that induces a permanent tacky film that forms on your skin.  Okay, I don’t love that part, but I would take summer over winter any day of the week as I revel in the lighter, brighter Technicolor season.

     With the relinquishing of coats and boots and gloves and hats, your body is no longer hampered by the weightiness of all those layers.  Now is a good time to unencumber your space as well, specifically your basement, the attic, or garage.  In the summer you can lug it outside for examination, reducing time spent with the dust those areas are famous for.  Move ‘em out, breathe fresh air, and once all those goodies are outdoors, you are less likely to haul them back in.  Who knows, maybe you can put up some signs, have a sale, make a few dollars;  a great option and good time of year to try your hand at it.

     One such summer day, a plan was made to tackle the “scary room” in Susan’s townhouse.  Susan and I had been working together for almost a year.  At the end of each session, although notably improved, when I returned for our next appointment things were right back the way they had been or worse.  Susan’s patterns were well ingrained and little effort was made during the week to maintain the systems we had put into place. 

     Each week we would deal with another corner, but before long, Susan would lose focus and distract herself with all the other areas we weren’t working on or in.  “When can we go through the third bedroom?” she asked.  “Some day I would like it to be a nursery;  we are considering having another baby.”

     I understood how this was a logical place for an additional child, and I appreciated Susan’s desire to create a space with that intention in mind.  It’s a powerful first step, but I was concerned.  Given Susan’s backsliding tendencies, it would be a waste of time and money to spend a few hours here and there, nipping away at the huge quantity of stuff in that room, only to have it replaced several weeks later. 

     We would never make any real progress with this method.  The room was packed to the ceiling and maneuvering through it without killing yourself was a challenge.  Add to that the huge amount of dust and mold that was pretty much everywhere;  it was basically a health hazard, a fire hazard, and not something I was willing to do alone.  Since Susan did not have the ability to help out with the physical nature of the project I would need to call in my posse.

     I explained,  “Great, Susan, but that room is a big job, one requiring more than just the two of us.  I would recommend waiting for a nice warm day, and then I can bring in my team.  We will move most of the contents out to the yard and sort there.  It will be healthier, faster, and definitely more bang for your buck.”  She agreed. 

      It all began well enough with a fireman’s line out to the yard. We traipsed down the stairs, over and over again.  There was lots of sneezing, lots of drop-cloths, and lots of stuff.  Leaving behind the larger pieces, the ones we determined would remain in the room (a reading chair, a bookshelf, a file cabinet), the majority of stuff from the small 10 x 12 space had now been relocated to the backyard.  

     It was time to begin the sorting and tossing.  In order to make our way through it all in the one day Susan and her husband consented to, we had to be vigilant.  It was imperative to stay focused and Susan had to be amenable to letting go of half of it.  Once spread out on the lawn, there was no way this was all going back in.  (Ten pounds of you-know-what in a five pound bag.) 

     This would be the easy part because Susan would have to make every attempt to not go back to her old habits of using the room as a dumping ground.  Although Susan’s husband approved of this enormous undertaking, he was not around to participate.  We were on our own, only Susan and our best efforts to guide us.  Fine by us.

     Susan was great, totally getting into the spirit of it.  Old toys, clothes, even some memories went the way of the alley and into the dumpster.  We filled donation bag after donation bag, we were on a roll.  Then her husband came home. 

     Even though all this stuff was a bone of contention between them, and he credited her as the responsible party, it became apparent quickly that his relationship with these articles was as much of an issue for him as it was for her.  When he started going through the garbage to see what we had tossed, I became uneasy.  This is never good.  With a sing-songy note in my voice I said, “Don’t go through the garbage,” trying to be lighthearted about it, so as not to sound harsh or demanding.  He ignored me.  When he discovered a bag full of socks he about flipped out.  “What are you doing getting rid of perfectly good socks?” 

     “Well,” I said, “How many pairs of socks do you need?”

“If you don’t have room for them and they have been sitting in a bag unworn for several years, chances are you won’t wear them.  Donating to someone else who can appreciate them is such a great thing to do.”  But my words landed on deaf ears.  He pulled the bag of socks out and continued to snoop through the trash.

     We did get rid of a lot that day and left the room in a transformed state.  It wasn’t up to our personal standards, but it was better and they seemed happy.  Minimally, you could walk through it, you could find things, and the dust was gone.  There was still much to do before it was ready to be dubbed  “The Nursery” but it was a vast improvement.  We loaded up our cars with the donation items (a preventative measure) patted ourselves on the back, high fives all around, and left. 

End of story:  after having worked with Susan for many months, she never called again.  Oh well - easy come, easy go?

to be continued....