As much as I love fall and being able to wear my cozy clothes again, I always lose a lot of energy in the fall. I think it is a bit of that Seasonal Affective Disorder thing, adjusting to fall and less daylight. I always forget how quickly we lose light this time of year. We are losing a little over three minutes a day, so in a week, that is 21 minutes of daylight, gone. And then there is the new routine to get used to and homework to be done, and bedtimes to be strictly adhered to... And this year, Justin is gone during the week, which is a little lonesome. So most of September, I did the minimal to get by while thinking longingly of my bed. And now that I am starting to get used to it all, I also have started realizing everything that needs to be down before fall and all the clothes that need to be switched out, and...
Inevitably, my entire house is torn apart and completely topsy-turvy at the moment.
--The kitchen is chock full of all the winter clothes rubbermaids
--The living room has bureau drawers and rubbermaids and sorted piles of clothes
--The entry area has a mound of books that I am getting rid of and all the summer and winter jackets and shoes, since it was in the twenties the other day and the kids needed more than a sweatshirt and sandals, so we had to quickly dig through rubbermaids to come up with the appropriate jackets and shoes.
--My bedroom has been torn apart, partially to go through books and partially because it has been the receiving station for the boxes of things hurriedly cleared off my counters when company was coming. And that has happened 3 or 4 times this past month.
--The girls room is in the process of being organized, after it had to be completely rearranged yesterday so that Lily, who has an over active imagination, could feel safe. We all got tired of assuring her at 10 pm (well after she should have been soundly sleeping) that no one could climb in the second story windows, that the noise she was hearing was just the flag flapping in the wind, and the "eyes" she saw across her room were actually just a crumpled kleenex and the edge of a white book. And with the rearrangement, there is room for a little sitting area, which means shifting furniture from the living room into their room, which means slight rearrangement of the living room.
--The laundry room/hallway has the diaper changing table that I need to get rid of, after I put a new cabinet in the bathroom
--The new bathroom cabinet still needs organizing.
The little kids room is the only room that is fairly neat, since I sorted through all the toys and organized it to a fare-thee-well last week.
Last night, Mom and Dad came over to go through my mound of books and Mom was rather horrified by my house. I told her that actually it was fairly neat yesterday morning and she wanted to sit down and weep for me. But I love this sort of cleaning. It is curiously energizing to have big things to accomplish. I have several bags and boxes to get rid of, a lot of old and tired things have been thrown out, and my house is looking different and less cluttered. Which is always exciting.
I saw this quote last week and loved it. Although, if you follow this line of reasoning, your life would soon resemble a leafless tree, ready for winter. Which is not really what I am aiming for. But it does feel so good to get rid of 'dead' things. There is a certain freedom in getting rid of things that meant something to me once, but no longer do. And then there are all the things that I feel like I should have, but don't really want. (Hello, useful but completely ugly rain jacket from the thrift store) I am not sure I am at the Konmari level yet, of throwing out anything that doesn't give me joy. But going through the books, I used that principle rather heavily. Do I feel pleased that I own this book? Or do I just feel like I should own this book? I suffer from this notion that if I don't take this or that book from the library book sale and give it a good home, it will be lost to future generations. Which is hogwash, since I know how successful Project Gutenberg has been.
I am no longer the guardian of literature for future generations.
My books are all for me.
It feels great.