Clutter as Furniture

I have noticed lately that men, at least the man that lives in this house, tend to not notice clutter if it has been there for a while. It becomes furniture or wallpaper. Now not all men are like this, but I know one. I am sure that brother-in-law, Bob, is not like this. I also know that son-in-law, Gary, is not like this, but husband, Mmmm, is. I thought of this as I was carrying large boxes of stuff and stashing them in the study. They have been sitting in the hallway for months and I finally just couldn’t stand it anymore. I also have moved the exercise equipment out of the dining room back to Mmmm’s room, and his ugly, green, vinyl beanbag chair went with it.. He doesn’t sit in it but he may - someday.

This is not a recent vagary. It has always been there. A pile of newspapers - all going to be read someday - a pile of boxes - you never knows when you will need a good box - an interesting little jar or bottle - they are amusing and I may want to look at them - and they are all conveniently at hand. The clippers and hedge trimmers are right beside the sliding glass door, ready to use in the yard, if one chooses. At one time the room that is now the study, was stacked with papers. I took the family back there and said that it had to be cleaned up or I would:

1. Clean up myself (meaning toss it)
2. Saw it off and burn it
3. Run away from home

They chose, wisely, to clean up the room. I struggle with stacks of things myself, but I like to have at least one or two rooms that are relatively serene. I find it hard to study or write in the midst of clutter. My problem is that I have the strange idea that the house belongs to both of us and we each have a say in the running of it. So I let the piles accumulate and the stacks get taller and the clutter become furniture. My philosophy is that a happy relationship is more important than a house with no clutter.

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