It’s not always clutter; that it’s OK to hang on to items that one loves, and just be encouraged to incorporate them into one’s life in a new way somehow. 

De-Cluttering Disaster?

The Waste Management Company in my area allows for one bulky item pick-up each year.  I’d been mentally building the pile of clutter I would get rid of for several months, and had even started assembling the items into one place in the backyard to make it easier to get everything to the curb when the day arrived.  One item I had decided to put out was a thoroughly worn sitting chair.

Not just any chair, mind you. When I was growing up, that chair lived in my parents’ bedroom and I have fond memories of sitting in it, often sideways in a typical teenager slouch, watching “My World and Welcome To It” and “The Avengers” for hours at a time. It was a beautiful chair in its prime—slender frame with a tall padded back and padded arms, and the fabric was anchored with a tight row of decorative tacks.  When my folks passed, I brought the chair into my house where the continued years of use caused the fabric to eventually shred and quite literally disintegrate. I’d done a little investigation and learned that reupholstering was an expensive proposition, about the same as purchasing a new chair, so I decided to go that route.

I took off early from work the afternoon before the pick-up was scheduled, so I’d have plenty of time to get all the stuff hauled to the curb before darkness fell over the neighborhood.  The first item out was the chair. As I continued to bring various items and boxes of junk out to the curb, passers-by would stop and look over the stuff.  Occasionally I’d come back from the backyard to see that something I’d just brought out was gone, scooped up by someone who saw potential in the item that I no longer did.

So when everything was curbside, I took one last look at it all.  For some reason, I was struck by how forlorn the chair looked out on the curb and I got all sentimental about it and decided I hadn’t done enough investigation into potential upholstering or slipcovers and that I would regret it if I got rid of the chair before doing all my homework.  So yes, you guessed it—the chair came back in from the curb. However, I didn’t bring the chair back into the same room where it had been before.  I’d been creating a sanctuary room for myself downstairs and decided it would be perfect in there, covered with a nice sheet until I found the right solution to its rebirth.  My cat Sam promptly climbed into it and decided it was a fine place to nap.

Despite all the stuff I did get rid of, I still felt like the chair represented a decluttering failure.  When I told my sister about what happened, she summed it up wonderfully:  that it’s not always clutter; that it’s OK to hang on to items that one loves, and just be encouraged to incorporate them into one’s life in a new way somehow.  Indeed, I get to continue to enjoy a chair that truly can’t be replaced—physically or emotionally—and my sanctuary room is a place that’s much more comforting and nurturing because the chair is there.  Onward!

Dot Snow - dot.snow@kp.org - December 2004