Am I Being Punked?

Hey guys, is Marie Kondo for real?

I first heard of  Marie Kondo and her magical cleaning voodoo when my mother- in-law gave me two copies of her book, The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up.

“I saw this book and I thought of you. It’s right up your alley.”

I didn’t have the heart to tell her that she had given me a copy a month before. 

“Thanks! I’ve heard of this. Can’t wait to check it out.”

I put it on the packed bookshelf in between the first copy and an unread copy of Why French Women Don’t get Fat, which she had gifted me ten years before.

“I saw this book and thought of you,” rang through my head enough times for me to finally pick it up and check it out. I think I did throw all my clothes on my bed and got rid of a bunch of things, but then I probably had to run to the office or tend to one of the kids and the bags of Rescue Mission clothes sat the garage for months until my husband flipped out at the messy garage and took them to a drop box. 

Recently, he was feeling so overly ambitious to declutter that he donated a plastic bag filled with two expensive pairs of boots and my favorite pair of casual sneakers. They were in a bag because they had been unloaded from the car, which I had decluttered. Unfortunately for me and my shoes, I hadn’t yet taken the bag of my very favorite shoes from the garage up to my walk-in closet where they could party hardy with the mess of shoes strewn about.

My mother-in-law was right that Marie Kondo seems right up my alley. She is right up one of my alleys, but I have way more than one alley. I have more than one season and more than one flavor.  Things go in cycles with me. Somethings I’m SUPER organized and annoyingly focused on order and cleanliness. Other times, thanks be to God, I can let that shit go and live my life. 

A quick glance at my closet and car right now would let you know that I’m currently recovering from a let that shit go and live my life period and moving at a competitive pace into the Marie Kondo(ish) period.

I woke up at 5:00 today and instead of watching some inspiring ultramarathon kick-ass woman documentary, I watched an episode of Marie Kindo’s show. If you’ve seen it, you’ll have your own opinions. If you haven’t seen it, I can only say that it’s a magical and mysterious Japanese version of hoarders. It’s a sneak peek into the lives of people shockingly disorganized and in need of therapy. I watched this morning while I beat eggs with milk, vanilla, brown sugar and maple syrup. I laughed a little to myself when Marie pulled up in a minivan outside a cluttered eye sore of a house. She was dressed all in white.  She spoke to her translation in a whispered voice. She is petite and beautiful and well mannered. She is otherworldly and yet still travelling around town in a Dodge minivan.

“This lady is a fraud,” I said to my dog as I ripped up pieces of bread to throw into the egg mixture.

“I bet she speaks perfect English and is a total hustler taking advantage of desperate, ignorant Americans who are literally drowning themselves in dollar store crap.” Lucy looked up at me with sad eyes that pleaded to go for a walk.

“Seriously, I want to hear her actual thoughts,” I explained to Lucy.

 Lucy’s expression remained unchanged.

I watched until the end of the show and to no great surprise, the couple got rid of a lot of crap, but not nearly as much as they should have.

For me, I spent the first day of my spring break in a exhausting nonstop cleaning mission fueled by a determination to not end up like the people on the show. I’m totally exhausted from today but my house looks and feels better. I decimate dust bunnies like the Terminator and bagged up dozens of items we no longer need. I moped that kitchen floor on my hands and knees. I even cleared out the car . Darn you, Marie Kondo, what type of crazy voodoo magic have you placed on me?

I kinda wanted to put my feet up and read a book today.

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