The Great Declutter
Margaret woke up Saturday morning with a mission. Today was the day she would finally declutter.
She started in the bedroom. Under the bed, she found so many hair ties she could open a salon. In the sock drawer, she discovered more singles than a dating app. She sighed and moved on to the closet.
That's where the trouble began. Her old jeans had been in the donate pile three times. Each time, they climbed right back into the closet like a dog that found its way home. Margaret held them up, looked them in the eye, and put them back on the hanger. "Fine," she said. "You win again."
Next came the kitchen. She bravely opened the spice rack and found paprika older than her grandkids. Then she opened the Tupperware drawer. Forty lids. Three containers. Nobody knew where the rest went, and nobody ever would.
By noon, she had a system. Her plan had three stages: keep, donate, and stare at it for twenty minutes. Most things landed in stage three.
She cleaned out her purse and found enough change to pay for the purse. In the junk drawer, which had been collecting evidence for 30 years, she found a gift card from a store that closed in 2008. She tucked it back in. Just in case they reopened.
Then there was the box labeled "Miscellaneous." She emptied it completely. Ten minutes later, somehow, it was full again.
Her husband Frank wandered in, eyeing the growing piles. "You're only keeping things that spark joy?" he asked nervously.
"Don't worry," Margaret said. "You're safe. For now."
In the afternoon, she tackled the garage. She found three of the same rake. Apparently she'd been losing rakes and replacing them with confidence. She also found the treadmill, which she gave away without a second thought. It had been tired of being a coat rack anyway.
When she finished, the garage was so organized that the car didn't recognize it.
She sorted every cord in the house into neat, labeled bags. She still had no idea what any of them charged, but they looked wonderful.
The pile of things she planned to sell online sat in the corner. It had been there six months. At this point, it was basically furniture.
By evening, Margaret loaded up the car for the donation center. The young man at the door smiled and handed her a punch card. "Ten visits and you get a free box of stuff you don't need," he said.
"I'm halfway there," she told him proudly.
That night, Margaret sat down to admire her work. She had decluttered so much that her echo now had an echo. She'd even cleared out her email, and her inbox was so empty it echoed too.
She felt inspired, so she turned on a decluttering show. It was so good, she decided to buy a bigger TV to see it better.
Then she ordered a book on decluttering. When it arrived, she realized she'd need a shelf for it. And maybe some tote bags. She did need a lot of tote bags.
As she drifted off to sleep, Margaret could have sworn she heard a small voice from the Miscellaneous box.
"Where did we all come from?" she whispered.
The clutter whispered back, "You invited us, Margaret. One sale at a time."
The End
