Friday, March 9, 2012

THE SPACE PRICE FOR CONVENIENCE

Years ago I realized I live in a 'blivet'. (In traditional U.S. Army slang dating back to the Second World War, a blivet was defined as "ten pounds of manure in a five pound bag" (a proverbial description of anything egregiously ugly or unmanageable); it was applied to an unmanageable situation, a crucial but substandard or damaged tool, or a self-important person)  As time passed the blivet state continues and the rooms seemed to shrink.  I finally realized that it didn't matter that six children left and should have created a vacuum, I still walk through the house as an obstacle course.  Workmen tell me my basement is a fire hazard.  My new rule is:  If I haven't used it in thirty years, it should go (with the exception of the slate topped pool table which is under a lot of it and will come back to life when cleared).

In an epiphany today, I finally understood my problem.  No one else's house is as convenient as mine is for me.  There is are five TVs, 3 ovens and a microwave (should the unlikely urge to cook grip me), a box of tissues is within reach of any surface on which one may sit as well as a wastebasket or two (depending on how far one might have to make an accurate toss) in every room.,  That is only a beginning.  Having worked for most of my life I somehow thought I needed to store stuff because I wouldn't be free to leave to buy at will. So as soon as I finish something, I replace it with a backup and then immediately must replace the used back up. I have two iTouches (in case I lose one or it runs out of battery) and back the addresses up in a regular old fashioned (yes, the write-in kind. I practiced Palmer Method script through grade school), though I hardly take pictures any more I have two digital cameras so as not to get caught without one charged (this does not account for why I am usually caught with only one camera and a dead battery), I have three pairs of glasses and a backup for my electric toothbrush since I assumed it would fail years ago instead of acting like the energizer bunny.

There is enough stuff to start a stationery store, having bought everything I might need sometime.  I could stock a drug store, a library, a small restaurant, and the local bar.  My worst fantasy is that should my home be on a tornado path, I will put my neighbors in jeopardy with all the debris that will fly out of my house.  It is too late to make a New Year's resolution and too late to give up my life style for Lent (though I never felt that urge).  I think, rather than 'wear purple when I am old' I shall just have to leave my surplus behind as revenge to my children for always taking things and never putting them back, forcing me to create 'hidden backups' . (Once when I went on a treasure hunt through the house for a pair of scissors, I found 22 pairs of them, none of them put back where they had formerly lived.)

It is amazing that I have yet to kill these old habits.  Now that I think of it, I don't know anyone who left this life with a clean house and completely organized life.  Never having striven to be a first at anything, I think I'll go read a book and solve this later.

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