Three whole months. Three whole months I’ve been doing this.  I’m amazed that I stuck with it so long. Even more so that I keep doing it.

I’m seeing gaps in places–most notably my closet.  I’ve given away a lot and thrown away the stuff that’s not in good condition, and I feel so much more free.

Check that–I don’t know that free is exactly the right word.

Because it’s not really about the stuff. It’s about the stick-to-it-iveness,  without tenacity.  Flow, perhaps. It’s like returning to a natural order I didn’t know I had.

One of my fears was (and is, still, if I’m really, really honest) is leaving a shit ton of mess behind were I to die.

I saw it with my mother as she went through 90 plus years of stuff that my grandmother had collected over the years.

Death is a funny thing. Not to be morbid, but shit happens.  And it’s a huge burden on those left behind to clean up the stuff.

Maybe it’s a natural part of grieving; I don’t know.  It just seems that it would be easier without it.

Grief makes everything harder. Going through a shit-ton of stuff is hard anyway. When grieving, it’s damn near impossible.

But it’s not really about death; it’s not about leaving less stuff. Not consciously, at least, although now that I think about it, perhaps it is a little bit about leaving less stuff.

What do I want my legacy to be? Writing. Relationships. Memories. Not stuff.

But  maybe it’s really more about moving obstacles out of the way. Having too much stuff is chaotic.  Having clutter is chaotic.  I’ve found that it’s draining to look at an overburdened closet filled with stuff I know I can’t wear.   I’ve found that it’s exhausting to look at an overrunning office filled with stuff I need to file. Or so many books that they’re falling from the shelves.  It’s like a giant, leaden to-do list that filled a space in the back of my mind that I carried around all the time.

And every week when I get more stuff out, more stuff filed, that weight gets a little less heavy.

Plus, when it comes to getting ready for work, I can almost see what I have to choose from with a single glance.

It’s definitely more efficient.

Chaos is being reflected in my writing.  I currently have three different–and by different, I mean whole scenes different–manuscripts for one book.  Incomplete, of course.  But because my evil twin (thanks, evil twin!) has become my writing buddy, helping me set goals and checking to see if I’ve met them, I’m really trying to trudge through the first draft.

And it’s like pulling teeth.

I really thought I’d have the first draft finished by the end of this year. With eleven days to go and an indeterminate word count, it doesn’t look like it’s happening.

So. I attack the chaos. Slowly, attempting to integrate the drafts. It’s slow. It’s mind-numbing.  But it is coming together.

Kind of.

So I keep attacking the chaos.

So for this week’s stuff;

• 1)  Bra
• 2) and 3) Red and Orange shirts
• 4) and 5) Blue and Green pants
• 6) 7) 8) Charts
• 9) and 10) Pink and Harley shirts
• 11) Camera box
• 12) Mirror Piece
• 13) Purple sweater
• 14) and 15) Scrub Pants
• 16) Purple skirt
• 17) 18) and 19) black, blue, and green pants
• 20) White scrub shirt
• 21) Ivory blouse

(Towels will be next week, J. I’d already had the stuff gathered.)

I filed a total of 30-ish things this week.  I lost count somewhere around 35. Mostly trashed (again). Some medical receipts from 2014 that I never deducted, but a few pieces for my 2015 taxes.

If I can find everything that I need, I’ll definitely have enough to itemize rather than taking the standard deduction.   So…more money back.

And here’s George Carlin talking about stuff.  It’s George Carlin, so there’s at least a little bit of NSFW.