Be Not Idle

Like many other Midwesterners, I lost electricity when weekend storms rumbled with trees and powerlines.  The power went out Sunday afternoon. It was restored briefly on Tuesday - long enough to do a load of laundry - then went out until early Wednesday morning. 

A power-outage is a great reminder that most material goods aren’t that important. My TV and PC became to large paperweights. The furniture formed an obstacle course.  Everything else impeded the hunt for bare basics: an emergency radio, the crank-powered lantern, and a can-opener to break into dinner.  

The things I missed the most were the fridge, the washer, and the dryer.  Going to bed early was no heartache. I read and wrote while there was natural light, then I fell asleep. The weather’s been unusually warm, so I was comfortable. 

I’ve had problems lately with appliances, so I’ve come to appreciate basic devices.  I had a cordless phone/answering machine combination. It hadn’t been holding a charge, so I bought a new battery.  No use. Sometimes it charged; sometimes it went dead.  I went to a resale shop and bought a phone for $5. Its a plastic relic with huge buttons, including two mysteriously labeled “FLASH” and “AUTO”.  I suspect it was an office phone, since it has a speakerphone option and a hold button. The latter plays a deafening electronic rendition of Fur Elise. But it works, even when the power’s out. (More on that below.) I also dragged out the cheap answering machine that I couldn’t GIVE away two years ago. When I got home this evening, I had a message from a high school pal - in other words, it works perfectly.

Thank God for Mr. Bell and his amazing invention.

When my washer died a clicking death, I ended up washing one load of clothes in the bathtub. I used a washboard and a small paddle. Afterwards, I felt tremendous admiration for my grandmothers. It took a lot of upperbody strength to wash and wring a single load of schoolteacher clothes. Those ladies washed work clothes for farmers and miners! 

I told my friend Karen that I needed a new washer, and we discussed local retailers. Within a few hours of our conversation, she called me back. Her family friends had recently moved and were selling a dryer (circa ‘89) for $50. Daniel and Tim were kind enough to handle the delivery and installation (including finagling space for it in dinky utility closet).

 Why doesn’t anyone offer a Nobel Peace Prize to Whirlpool factory workers?

Overcoming our faults and weaknesses gives glory to God, because we can’t possibly overcome them on our own.

- Mother Angelica

Two weeks ago, I had three pieces of furniture that had outlived their usefulness: a dresser, a linen folding screen, and a wingback chair. Two of the items found new homes, but the hand-me-down dresser remained. I’d used it as a bedside table despite it being too wide and too high. (People suspect you’re hiding the truth when you say you got the blackeye from rolling over to read the clock.) It is too big to fit in my car, and I was afraid to tie it into my trunk and attempt the hour-long drive to a charity. It’s too good for the neighbours’ bonfire.  With its typical  ’50s or early-’60s  tapered legs and fake-wood laminated top, it’s not stylish enough to interest the resale shops.*

As I was cleaning out the office closet, I wondered what to do about storage. Stacks of cardboard boxes are neither safe nor accessible, plus they absorb moisture during humid days. Plastic is better if you want to see the entire contents at a glance. (I prefer to read labels.) 

“It would be nice to have one of those expensive closet systems with drawers,” I thought. Eureka! I put the dresser in the closet, then stacked a low bookshelf on top. Ta da! My art supplies, writing paper, etc. are stored but accessible.

As usual, organizing one area opened my eyes to organizing another. I unearthed my writing desk. It was buried beneath low-priority paperwork, books, the telephone, etc. Mostly etcetera! I realized how long it’s been a dumping-ground when I excavated raffle tickets from the 2006 parish festival!

I don’t know what I’m going to write yet. However, I’ve already benefited from having a single place to read essays and correct tests. Now my diningroom table can stop serving as  Paperwork Central.

*I paid ten bucks for a similar nightstand at the St. Vincent de Paul Society.  I guess I’m not stylish.

I have had a request from a friend to explain what I mean by “squalor”.  I could just invite her over and have her look into my office and living/diningrom on a typical day, but it’s slightly less embarrassing to explain here. 

Squalor is a high level of clutter. It can be hoarding, like the people you see on various organization shows who collect broken computers because they’re useful for “parts”. It can be chronic clutter that explodes into a huge mess because a person is too ill or stressed to prioritize it. It can be everyday items that gradually take over every horizontal surface (including the floor). 

In other words, squalor has a lot of levels.

What causes it? A number of factors play into it. Obsessive-compulsive disorder leads a lot of people into squalor. Perfectionism is a surprisingly common trait among squalorees, as we call ourselves (when we’re not calling ourselves worse names). We get paralyzed by thoughts like, “This has just one broken part, so I should fix it. I can’t clean part of this room unless I clean the whole room. I know the recycling center won’t take this, but I’d feel guilty if I don’t find a use for it.” 

The National Study Group on Chronic Disorganization developed a Clutter Hoarding Scale which the Squalor Survivors Community uses:

 http://www.squalorsurvivors.com/squalor/measuring.shtml

When I lived in my first apartment by myself, I was at Level One: chronic clutter. As friends and relatives moved in with me, I went to Level Two and stayed there for years.  But I didn’t know I was at Level Two. I thought I was a dirty slob. I knew I wasn’t lazy. I had a full-time job, a part-time job, and took evening classes.  Was it avarice? But I didn’t LIKE having so much stuff. Was it an organizational problem? A professional organizer told me that all I needed to do was switch from being a “piler” of papers to a “filer”.  (Instead, I did both.)

I didn’t know that other people were like me. Granted, I knew people who had trails of dirty dishes from the sink, across the countertops, over various tables, and into their home offices. But mostly those were young men, and everyone knows about ”bachelor housekeeping”. If a man’s bathroom smells like urine and has topless toothpaste tubes oozing over the sink, it’s not pleasant but it’s a manly foible. Similar conditions in a bachelorette’s home are unacceptable (unless she has a closet overflowing with shoes and clothes - that’s just the life of a fashionable single girl!) 

I knew a couple women who were sloppy housekeepers, but one suffered from depression and, conversely, the other was a highly successful businesswoman.  I also knew hoarders, but they tended to store everything so NEATLY that it wasn’t until later that I questioned why anyone would WANT an entire shelf of stacked empty cottage cheese containers.

I remember when I prayed for help. I had been a “secret slob” as Holden Caulfield put it in The Catcher in the Rye - looking neat on the outside but shoving boxes of stuff into the storage closet so company wouldn’t see it. Or getting the urge to clean and throwing out good stuff (like the year I threw out my tax return… eek!)  But I couldn’t hide it anymore. My younger brother moved in. He’d take his friends into my bedroom to use my computer and there was my squalor: boxes stacked next to the bed, dresser piled with stuff, overflowing file cabinet. I couldn’t hide it.

I prayed and even talked to someone at my church to ask for prayers. As usual, Our Father answered not with an instant ”cure”, but by steering me towards other people.

I had been reading business books about time management and organizing work-related items. I checked motivational tapes (Zig Ziglar, Tony Robbins, etc.) out of the library and listened to them on my commute. One day I came across a misfiled book, a funny book about ”Sidetracked Home Executives”. The “Slob Sisters”, Pam Young and Peggy Jones wrote about their own squalorous lives and how they invented a card system to keep them on track. 

The cards never worked well for me, but on their website did. There I ”met” other people who had similar challenges in staying organized. One of them was Marla Cilley, “The FlyLady” as she prepared to launch her daily FLY List. From there I made my way to OrganizedHome.com  and the Squalor Survivors Community (see my blogroll for links).

 So that’s my story. (And I’m sticking to it… but in a PostIt Note way, not like old bubblegum…)

On Saturday, I picked up my friend Karen. We both had errands in Port Huron, and she was going to be my guide to find the St. Vincent de Paul Society. I let her have first crack at what I was getting rid of: two boxes of houseware and three bags of clothes. 

I find it hard to describe how wonderful I felt watching her try on things and finding treasures among my discards.  It made me think of how people might react to finding something just right for them at St. Vincent’s. But what really floored me is that she immediately said, “I’ll go through my closet and see what I have to pass on.”  And when she saw something she really liked but that didn’t quite fit her, she said, “I could hang onto this, but someone else will absolutely LOVE this!”

She has an automatic generosity and honesty that puts me to shame. When we were in Home Depot, she found some money and immediately looked for the person who left it behind. Then she informed the management. No “finders, keepers” or hesitation.

 She herself works two jobs and is looking for a third. She always is on the look-out to help other people, even if it’s inconvenient.

 She’s not alone by any means. I’ve met an octogenarian last summer who fixes up broken appliances and sells them to help his neighbours pay their bills. He considers himself in good financial shape because his social security check covers his basic needs and his little trailer is in decent shape.  He said God gave him his health and longevity so that he could keep helping others.

 Then there are the kids, the ones who get free school lunches and wear out the clothes passed down from their older cousins. But they collect pop cans so they can raise money for Christmas gifts and groceries for other families. 

 I wonder how such people learn so much generosity, yet those of us who have more have such a struggle with being generous. 

In the spirit of divesting myself of material goods, I tackled the kitchen this week. Material things, in and of themselves, are not bad. However, hoarding items is. My goal was to sort out a few good things and pass them on to local charities. 

It soon became hilarious how many things I DON’T USE are in my kitchen cabinets and cupboards. When my parents were here in the fall, my mother commented that I have a variety of  cleaning supplies and really only need a few basics.

That’s nothing compared to my kitchenware. I’m keeping what matches my new set of dishes. Good-bye, personalized coffee cups! (I haven’t needed them since I stopped working at a big company where things tended to disappear.) Good-bye, hamburger press! Adios, glass carafe! 

There are also duplicates. I have two wooden cutting boards, one of which I didn’t unwrap at the housewarming.  Sissy sent me a beautiful set of towels (handpicked by her hubby JoeCool) for my birthday, so I put the others into a box and the stained ones into the ragbag. My elder brother and his family gave me a quesadilla maker just like the one I already have, so the unopened Christmas present will go.

It’s tempting to keep these things. For example, I’m apt to scratch the Teflon coating on the quesadilla maker, since I use it so often. But then again, it’s tempting to keep EVERYTHING for myself and give nothing away.

Hand-me-downs are another matter. A juicer, a badly tarnished tea strainer, a dented colander, a McDonald’s glass from when Jim Carey played the Riddler… My friends and relatives passed on their odds and ends; it’s easy to pass them on again!

St. Vincent de Paul in Port Huron gave me a number for pick-up of furniture. So that will be next week’s project.

• This Lent, I’m giving away as many material possessions as I can.  I’ve learned that material possessions interfere in my spiritual growth. I’ve learned the more I have, the less time I have. I’ve learned that writing is harder when clutter takes over my desk. I’ve learned that it’s harder to pray the Rosary when I keep thinking about the dusting, vacuuming, etc. But despite what I’ve learned, it’s hard to let go.

• I will not surf the ‘net on weekdays. Instead, I will wake earlier and spend time in prayer. 

• At work, I will bite my tongue and be more patient with my chronically upset students.