I must say, it is a very timely book as my house is currently a wreck.
I must also say, I am torn betwixt eagerly embracing her method with all my heart or tossing her book into the library return cart with greatest disdain.
Once I decide, I'll let you know.
In the meantime, I am feverishly reclaiming my house from the twin vortices of remodeling and a major family trip. Because, you know, Elle's 4th birthday party is TOMORROW and I'm having about thirty family members over for a girly tea party! I don't have time for stinkin' tidy and toss. I'm full on stash and dash!
Or at least, I should be.
There is so much for me to do and I can't settle down to do any of it, hence I am sorting my socks and blogging about the experience.
Marie Kondo actually has a theory about such behavior. It explains why we have to feverishly tidy instead of studying for exams and such. She says that instead of addressing the inward turmoil in our heart, we futilely address the turmoil in our surroundings. Hmm, I'm going to have to think about that one for a bit.
Anyways, I know you clicked on this to hear about my socks, and I am loathe to disappoint.
|Imagine this basket, full to overflowing with lonely socks|
"Do you have a white ankle sock with a green stripe on the toe?"
I can't imagine Ms. Kondo doing such a thing with her socks. She insists they be treated with respect. Since I haven't actually read her sock strategy yet, I'm forced to improvise. Because of intensive re-arranging in my room, I have recently lost my designated "sock nook". Beside, broken down laundry baskets full of errant socks don't spark joy. At least, not for me.
What does spark joy?
|My shoe box of socks!|
Here it is, all broken down . . .
1 bag of men's white socks
1 bag of boys mostly dark socks with some assorted color
1 bag of boys mostly white socks with some assorted color
1 bag of boys once-upon-a-time white socks
1 bag of girls socks
1 bag of MY* socks
*there are only two in there. I respect my socks.
I will, theoretically, compare each newly recovered unmatched sock against my organized sock data base, hopefully matching Bonnie with Clyde and restoring them to circulation. After a few months, I should know which socks have mates and which were tragically eaten by the dryer.
There you have it. The broken down laundry basket with the hopelessly lost socks will be thrown out.
Because broken down laundry baskets with hopelessly lost socks just don't spark joy, doggone it!
But shoe box data bases do!