Okay, so I live in a very small space by Western (N. American) standards. In Asia I live in a l-a-r-g-e condo. Misnomer. It is really a one bedroom one floor one bedroom apartment. Assisted living style without the assist. About 30 sq. meters or 322 sq. feet. Here mom, dad, a kid or 3 or 4 workers live in this small space in the condo complex. Go figure.
And I am trying the Marie Kondo thing. (Condo/Kondo? Is there a connection or am I, once again, the wing nut seeing a connection where one doesn't exist?)
So I haul out all my closet contents, humped/schlumped all on the bed rather late at night. I guess I am not as efficient as the series is. The drag out pile, very heavy. I nestled in to sleep dismayed I couldn't deal with my things in half an hour per the you tube episodes.
The morning eye opening caffeine hit, a rare day off - now what? I know, I know, keep, toss, donate. Here no one wants preowned anything. All about face plus there is no where to donate. So toss is it I suppose.
I stare at my bed pile. Huge as it is I hope I can find joy in what I touch and keep those wardrobe pieces and pitch the unjoy pieces of my hoard.
I sip my cold coffee (it is too hot here in the tropics for a lukewarm morning java spike), with a touch of dismay. Cleaning out the closest means decisions and I hate making decisions. Never been good at them, decisions, and most I have made have been wrong. Great legacy for closet micro scaling down. Why did I think I could do this?
So taking a great coffee swig, which I chased with haste with an equally great hearty belt of very expensive Jack Dan's to face the bed I survey the humpy/schlumpy pile of clothes. After another swig of each I sit on the bed trying to feel/find the "joy" in each article of apparel. I feel nothing in any article of clothing no matter how often I touch trying to experience some mojo out of them.
What about this shirt, does this give me joy? It's got coffee stains. I suck at the coffee stains because caffeine. Doesn't really do it for me, I should have stuck with the cold stuff. Or the Gentleman Jack. Can't decide. Anyway not the coffee stained shirt that can go. Or not.
Pepe sidles up to me and whimpers so I pick him up and give him a hug. Not feeling it. Kondo is right and out the Condo window he goes, wrapped in a coffee stained shirt because no one needs crap like that in their lives. Man that was a good shirt though probably should have kept it. I need a hair cut I think. What to do? Short? Long? Both? Maybe both. I want to look my best when I talk to that Dotard. He called me Rocket Man again. I got to think -- does he bring me joy?
Opening: Wilkins MacQueen.....Continuation: ril