Tiny museums, cabinets of curiosity, collections of memories, delicate souvenirs, layers of life, and threads of stuff sewn together to create a home. I watched this little video after washing the floor, sorting through junk mail, and climbing up the stairs to the disaster area that is our bedroom. I didn't know what it was about, but it created a strange inner shift.
Since returning to work, the Sisyphean tasks of daily life (dishes, laundry, dishes, laundry, toilets, newspapers, dishes, and laundry) have been threatening to flatten us. We just can't seem to catch up, can't seem to form a solid rhythm, and it is dragging me down with the weight of it all. This struggle isn't new for me, but it has certainly been more intense during the past few months. After watching the Sullivans in their home, I am realizing that these feelings of being overwhelmed aren't just about the bulging laundry hampers, this is also about the junk mail.
Moving every three years is a very good thing for us because it forces us (ok, mostly me, since I am the worst pack rat in the family) to purge and solidify which things have meaning and usefulness in our lives. I want our home to have vivid memories and stories attached to the objects that we save and savor. Junk mail, shoes that are uncomfortable, sheets that are itchy, and soap that smells bad need to be removed.
In this coming year, I want to have our own mini revolution. I want to print more family photos and hang them up/frame them. I want to get rid of junk mail as soon as it enters the house. I want to find a way to preserve the shells, rocks, fossils, and other delicate treasures that we are constantly collecting. I want to rotate our collections and bring things out that we haven't seen in awhile. I want to shift from thinking of myself as the bitter, weary janitor to thinking of myself as a curator.