Wednesday, May 19, 2010

Unintentional Decluttering

It all began with a crisis. I had lost my husband's prescription, or at least thought I had lost it. I don't remember putting it in my purse when we left the doctor's office. My husband could have easily put it in a safe place but doctor appointments, bills, notices, and prescriptions ultimately become my responsibility.

On this day, when I went to have it filled, it was no where to be found.

Thus began the ultimate search...high and low and everywhere in between...which led to lots of decluttering. Not that my house looks like I've decluttered but when it comes to the stacks of paper around this place, I most certainly did declutter. No one else may notice but I certainly do. A trash bag full of paper was my trophy: a whole tree cut, sliced, shredded, packed, pasted, measured and paperized.

Was I feeling proud? Yes, indeed. I also found it amusing that in throwing away a trash bag full of paper that it made me feel green somehow. Funny how decluttering and cleaning make us feel as though we are helping the environment.

In many ways, we are. We are helping to beautify, polish, and make productive our homes where the most important people in the world live. That's a good thing.

After futively searching through my purse, planner and book bag at least five times each, I moved to the window seat which reflected poster projects, dioramas, and lots of school work: lots of books and paper.

No prescription.

I moved to the microwave where all my husband's paper are kept. And I looked and I looked and I looked. Nothing.

The paper trail moved on.

I checked my purse, my book bag and my planner again. Nothing.

My bedroom which is a cellar of all things bookish was next. The blue chair which is supposed to be my reading corner yet continously dissolves into my laundry/office has been restored to its original domestic happiness. Instead of six piles of books and paper tripping over the floor there is only one small pile of papers which I am currently working on or that needs my current attention and the books have been neatly returned to bookshelves. A week's load of washed clothing has been hung in the closets.

Still no prescription.

I moved to the opposite corner of my bedroom. I began to weed and file and sort. I cleared enough to know that the prescription could not be down in the depths of that inferno. You would have to look at what I was able to throw away and put away to fully appreciate my attempt. There is still 3/4 of that corner that needs to be reshuffled. The bookshelves in that room need to be rearranged and some of their fruit given to others. Still I feel an attempt has been started and that's worth something.

Yet, still no prescription.

I was getting worried. What does one do if they loose a prescription? Would the doctor write out a new one? I searched the long headboard over our bed. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

Chelsea stopped by my bedroom to tell me she was going to bed and give me a kiss. Pray to St. Anthony, I begged her. She's a great one at praying.

I finally decided to go to bed and rest my mind. Tomorrow is another day, at least Scarlett O'Hara believed it. Not that it would work any better for me than it did for her.

Day 2:

This morning I noticed a piece of paper on the window sill above the microwave. I picked it up with the intent to throw it away. On my way to the trash can I flipped it over and glanced at it.

Prescription found.

And I got a lot of cleaning done in the process.

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