Take out the papers and the trash

Coincidentally, the most famous blogger on the planet earth and I made the same New Year's resolution, our only resolution: to throw away more things. I guess she could have resolved something private that she didn't blog about, like to pick her nose less, but I don't know for sure. What I know for sure is that I resolved to throw more things away.

That's it. New Year's Eve, lying in bed, listening to my neighbors shout about how drunk and horny they are into my bedroom window from their exclusive roof deck, I decided, "I will throw away more things this year."

I'm a hoarder. Technically I haven't crossed the line into the clinical sense of hoarding, but it's a fine line for me and I try to test it with my big toe sometimes. Example: for a long time, like feud-length time, Matthew and I had this fight over the garbage can.

"Why do you always leave garbage on the counter next to the sink?"

"I don't know!" (I get really defensive over nothing in these confrontations and always end up shouting.)

"We have a small kitchen; the garbage can is five feet away."

"So! I don't want to walk over there!"

"It's five feet," he explained calmly. "Just try, OK?"

"All right, I'll work on it."

Weeks later:

"Why do you always leave garbage on the stove?"

"I might need to use it later!"

"For what?"

"I could use that half-used paper towel to wipe up something else!"

"But what about this milk ring? You aren't using that for anything else."

Me, shouting more, "But it's almost to the garbage can! See, I've gotten better! It's closer to the garbage can!"

"But the garbage can is right next to the stove. It's one more foot. You're already at the stove, why can't you reach into the garbage can?"

"But I'm better than when I left it at the counter!!!"

After months of garbage can negotiations, I can conscientiously look at a piece of garbage and say to myself, "That goes in the garbage can," and I'll actually do it. I'll actually place garbage in the can. This is huge for me, considering I let my junk mail pile up all over the living room and then go through it all at once every other month (that's being generous, it isn't that often), and finally throw it all away. When I clean up, I end up with six bags of garbage, instead of filling them gradually like someone who doesn't hoard would do.

My first step toward realizing my New Year's resolution was to clean out my backpack. As a librarian, I'm always photocopying random bits that I think are interesting then shove them in my backpack. There they ferment into vertically squished pulpy mishmashes that have no educational purpose any longer and, specifically, no reference to my life any longer.

So here it is, the result of the backpack purge:



The "purple" faux Birkenstocks, no matter how nasty they look, are not actually part of the purge. I'll die with those nasty things stuck to my feet. Literally. They stick to my feet and they have no grip left. I could fall and break my head on garbage at any moment.

And, for the cutie-pie version of the clean-up, here's my beloved basset Blanche helping with the fun:



Aww.

Ever onward. Now I'm going to go throw away some food.