Winter restlessness with home

This book tells me that Messies have a unique ability to zoom in on what they like and ignore the rest. Boy, this is true.

I’ve been challenging myself to see the rest. Ouch. Every surface has a clutter of stuff; corners on the floor have little piles of things; passageways require one to step around or over at least one thing.

I can still zoom in: the contrast between the black chalk wall and white one next to it makes me happy. I love this big metal bed I’m sitting in. The vintage furniture I own holds up quite well to real life while feeling stylish.


Perhaps it’s my advancing age but I’m tired of the messy. Working from home means I spend the vast majority of my time at home in a place that’s close but not quite wonderful. I’ve lived in wonderful. I remember how good it felt to invite new friends over and not worry about what they thought of my home, knowing they’d have no choice but to be a little charmed. I had interesting furniture in arresting surroundings and a cosmopolitan attitude.

Now I feel like a frumpy suburban Messie.

Back then I could inventory my beloved things off the top of my head. I didn’t mind not having chairs because I loved the one I did. I bought this big expensive bed because it would last me forever.

Now, I buy too much stuff. I don’t get rid of enough stuff. My standards for clutter are too high and my standard-proportioned home lacks drama and interest and charm. I own too many clothes to keep track of, too many dishes to keep clean, and too many effing mismatched plastic containers for kid lunches.

Easily overwhelmed, I plan to start small. First, a move away from the improvement-stasis we’ve fallen into since having our dear kiddo. This weekend I will make a stool and steps for the bathroom, start on the closet shelving for Javi’s room. I will use my quiet time to study up on cabinet and countertop making; perhaps I will even measure the shelves.

As I move around the house, I will clear surfaces. If time allows, I will sort and toss and organize. If it doesn’t, I will dump into boxes, label, and move them to the garage.

And I will keep looking at my fave inspiration photos on Pinterest. I no longer live in an old brownstone, downtown high-rise or renovated loft, but perhaps with some editing and management, this place can still feel awesome.


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