I take pride in the fact that we have nothing in our attics (we have one over the bedrooms and one over the garage). Well, we do have an antenna in one of them so that we can get more than just 4 television channels since we long ago got rid of satellite/cable television, but that is the only thing up there.
There are no holiday decorations, no knick-knacks, no old clothing, no old furniture.
This is not to say that we don't have any of this stuff, but it is in our basement storage area, which is pretty limited in size.
We never stored anything in our attic in our first house either.
There is something about the idea of attic storage that makes me think of fires and safety and it sorta gives me the heebie-jeebies to even consider putting boxes and boxes of flammable materials up there. Not that the stuff we have in the basement couldn't go up in flames, but somehow fire being under my feet is slightly less heart-attack inducing than fire being above my head as I sleep.
In some parallel universe, I think I am a professional organizer (or a financial consultant since I love talking budgets and savings and meeting money goals). Of course organizing is enjoyable when you really like de-cluttering, saying sayonara to unused stuff. Some people with OCD do the hoarding thing, but clutter is what makes me feel anxious.
D and I rearranged our basement furniture over the Christmas break. As part of that project, I pulled out more than 50 books that had been taking up space on our bookshelves. Some of them I read in college and didn't remember. Some of them I had read for book club and didn't really like enough to make them part of my book family. The ones that are staying are books I truly, truly adore (like Jane Eyre and Wuthering Heights), books that are classics and have stood the test of time (Treasure Island), and more modern books that I really, really liked (The Secret Life of Bees).
I guess the theme of 2011 was to rid myself of stuff, the extraneous that doesn't really matter now.
When my 20-year high school reunion neared in June 2011, I went through all the photos and albums I had saved from high school and trashed probably 94% of it. Pictures of my high school friends and their dates at dances (and even numerous pictures of me with my dates at dances) simply aren't important anymore.
As I enter 2012, I am trying to be mindful of how little I need and that much of what makes me the happiest and most content is not stored in drawers and bins and compartments.
There are no holiday decorations, no knick-knacks, no old clothing, no old furniture.
This is not to say that we don't have any of this stuff, but it is in our basement storage area, which is pretty limited in size.
We never stored anything in our attic in our first house either.
There is something about the idea of attic storage that makes me think of fires and safety and it sorta gives me the heebie-jeebies to even consider putting boxes and boxes of flammable materials up there. Not that the stuff we have in the basement couldn't go up in flames, but somehow fire being under my feet is slightly less heart-attack inducing than fire being above my head as I sleep.
In some parallel universe, I think I am a professional organizer (or a financial consultant since I love talking budgets and savings and meeting money goals). Of course organizing is enjoyable when you really like de-cluttering, saying sayonara to unused stuff. Some people with OCD do the hoarding thing, but clutter is what makes me feel anxious.
D and I rearranged our basement furniture over the Christmas break. As part of that project, I pulled out more than 50 books that had been taking up space on our bookshelves. Some of them I read in college and didn't remember. Some of them I had read for book club and didn't really like enough to make them part of my book family. The ones that are staying are books I truly, truly adore (like Jane Eyre and Wuthering Heights), books that are classics and have stood the test of time (Treasure Island), and more modern books that I really, really liked (The Secret Life of Bees).
I guess the theme of 2011 was to rid myself of stuff, the extraneous that doesn't really matter now.
When my 20-year high school reunion neared in June 2011, I went through all the photos and albums I had saved from high school and trashed probably 94% of it. Pictures of my high school friends and their dates at dances (and even numerous pictures of me with my dates at dances) simply aren't important anymore.
As I enter 2012, I am trying to be mindful of how little I need and that much of what makes me the happiest and most content is not stored in drawers and bins and compartments.
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