Yesterday I threw out six trash bags of trash from our house. SIX trash bags. And that’s just the TRASH: not stuff “good enough to give away,” but containers of dried-out Play-Doh, scattered beads, a stack of Gymboree gift boxes I’m never going to use, cheap trinket-type toys, paper airplanes, and pieces of broken toys.

This is the kind of task that is equal parts satisfying and discouraging. The satisfaction is obvious: six bags of trash removed is a clear improvement. But it’s also so discouraging: how did things get this bad? and how can there still be so much left to do?

The clutter book I’m reading is equal parts annoying and useful. I think all self-help books are annoying, and this one keeps cheesing me off with its tone. But here are the useful things I’m already putting into practice:

1) You can only have as much stuff as you have room for.

2) If it’s so important, why is it in a never-opened box in the basement?

3) Stop bringing more stuff IN.

4) If you’re not using it, give it to someone who can, or else get rid of it.

5) What does this item represent?

That last one is for things like, why am I saving a big pile of still-in-their-packages child-proofing devices, when it’s clear that if we haven’t used them by Baby #5 we’re not GOING to use them? And the answer is that when I own these items, it makes me feel like I own Safety. It also applies to things like books, where people often feel that they’ve purchased Information. And it applies to heirlooms and keepsakes that are in boxes in the basement, where people often feel like they’re storing Memories they’d otherwise lose.

I find this concept exceedingly cheezy—and yet useful and applicable, which explains why I’m a little crabby. It turns out I am saving a number of things in case of Apocalyptic Situations and/or Economic Depressions. I feel like if I have piles of fabric and twenty-five pounds of dried beans, then I will be all set in case of zombies, nuclear disaster, and/or economic ruin.

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Pay-it-forward updates:

Cookiemonks has her new contest up—it’s Etsy-themed, with a choice of prizes.

You know, one of the problems with tackling clutter is it gets SO MUCH WORSE before it gets better. Working on it makes me SEE it. Also, with toys: I’d like to be able to give away some of the toys that are perfectly good—but of course, pieces are all tangled up with other pieces, and some pieces are probably under the bureau, and ARRRRGGGG!! Forget it!!

I have been such a crab about it, you would not believe it. Snapping at people! Making sarcastic remarks! Doing something I hate when other people do it, which is to make exasperated noises and fling a project down, saying “ARRRRGGGG!! Forget it!!” BAD BEHAVIOR.

Also, it’s pretty crabbifying to look at all the stuff going in the trash: all the stuff I thought the kids would like, all the little things I bought on a whim or after careful thought, all the presents—going right back out of the house. I realize that’s The Way of Material Things (it’s not like I imagined them playing for years with a straw doll), but it’s depressing to see so much of it at once.

Speaking of material, let me set you to work on a Clutter Challenge. I make the kids’ beds with bottom sheets and pillowcases only. The top sheets, brand-new and with factory folds, I keep in a stack in a closet. I probably have a dozen of them, or maybe more. It’s perfectly good fabric!

If we DID go into a Depression Era, I could make clothing out of it! Or curtains! I’d just have to learn to sew! I’d be kicking myself so hard if I’d thrown out enormous pieces of beautiful, brand-new cloth. Some of them are such pretty patterns!

Or, I could use it to make reusable fabric wrapping paper: I bought fabric ribbon on 75-90% off last Christmas for this very purpose.

Or, we might want to use them as sheets again some day. Never mind that the bottom sheets are much more worn, and/or wearing out completely and getting thrown out.

Or, I could offer them to one of you—maybe someone who makes quilts and could use big pieces of fabric. But fabric is heavy to ship.

Or…what?

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Pay-it-forward updates:

My Version of the Story is showing the giftie she got and posting a new contest (it ends tonight, so hurry!).

Not the Daddy has a new contest up.

Living and Learning says there are only a few entries on her contest, so the odds are in your favor if you enter.

When I finally get around to appointing my Cabinet, I’m making Akimbo my Chief Science Adviser. She is a real scientist, and she talked me down out of a full-fledged virus fret at ONE O’CLOCK IN THE MORNING. I need someone like that on my full-time staff. I’m sorry, Akimbo, but I’m going to need you to work nights.

Of course then my worry mutated, like the virus I worried would mutate. But still! That was some impressive scientific service! And would you guys please click through and give her a hard time for only having ONE single post on her whole blog? We obviously need her to tell us MORE SCIENCE. Even after I started worrying about mutated viruses, I thought to myself, “Akimbo would have thought of that, because she is a scientist. And SHE says SHE is not worried.” And I went to sleep.

Still looking for a Chief Spelling Adviser: it took me several minutes to figure out that it wasn’t “advisor” (or “cheif”).

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Pay-it-forward updates:

Semi-Desperate Housewife is showing the giftie she got, and posting a new contest.

I’m up late, doing what I am nearly always doing when I’m up late: worrying.

This time it started because I like to have something to watch on TV while I’m stirring the fudge, and I’d finished my disc of The Wire so I just turned it to PBS. It was a program about this awesome thing they’ve discovered: a way to generate stem cells from regular old adult skin cells, instead of in controversial ways. The problem is that the way they get the skin cells to do this is by introducing a special kind of virus. And that virus! Oh, guess what? It causes cancer! They showed lumpy pink mice.

Well, and they’re working on that. But in the meantime, is that not the makings of an apocalyptic novel? A virus some scientists are using for good, but have not yet perfected! It escapes! The whole world gets cancer and dies, except for the select few who will now spend their time plundering stores, figuring out how to fix a broken leg with no doctor, and trying to contact other survivors!

So there I am, lying awake picturing my children—and everyone else’s children—dying of cancer. Oh, the weight of all that imaginary human pain! And I was cursing myself for having so MANY children. Why did I have any children at all after the first one, when I realized his continued existence was absolutely essential to my continued will to live? I was trying to lay in reserves, but instead I dramatically decreased my odds of living my life’s dream: dying as an old lady who never had anything truly bad happen to one of her children.

Well, so you can see why I had to get up and bask in the light of the computer. Seasonal Affective Disorder can be treated with UV lights; Nighttime Worrying Disorder can be treated with monitor light.

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Pay-it-forward updates:

Living in Maryland is showing the giftie she got, and posting her new contest.

Pink Elefant is starting a new contest.

Today I had a happy alignment of the stars/schedules that resulted in 40 minutes with no children, so I ran over to look at flooring samples for our new dining room. We’re converting a porch (i.e., “junk dumping ground”), and when I say “we” I mean “my dad and various hired professionals,” because between us Paul and I have JUST enough do-it-yourself talent to plug in our own appliances without requiring outside assistance.

These seven samples are just a starting place. It’s the “I don’t have any idea what I’m looking for, and I have less than half an hour to look, so let’s get a little from all over the spectrum and see what opinions start to emerge” run. But all of them are from the more expensive section of the vinyl racks, because I always want to impress the salesperson with my refined taste.

B is my clear, hands-down favorite. I lovvvvvvvvve it. It is so gorgeous. The colors are gorgeous. I feel like I could just stare at it for years and never get sick of it. Each square is different colors and patterns.

But as my dad points out, it’s important not to confuse “the one that would look best framed as wall art” with “the one that would be best as a floor”—and B is very dark and very dramatic. Sometimes what’s best for a floor is “the one that disappears and you don’t notice it.” Especially if you are not much for keeping floors clean (*ahem*).

This photo is a little unfair, because more flash got on the lower three, and so they look cheaper and shinier. It’s also unfair because from this distance A, F, and G disappear completely: you can’t even see that A has a very pretty leaf-imprint pattern and that G has a very pretty vintage-y light green vines-and-leaves pattern (maybe if you click to see it bigger?). Well, and F really IS that boring, but I thought it was a good one for a “disappearing” option.

C and D look a lot like real stone, but I’m worried that will be too cold-looking in a room that doesn’t get much light. My dad’s favorite is C; he says he thinks D looks fake: it has “shadow-effect” (deliberate dark line along the edges of the stone) that doesn’t succeed and instead makes it look fakey.

The woman I talked to at the flooring place said E is the one that ends up looking really good almost no matter what. It comes in a number of colors, and she says she always thinks “meh” when someone chooses it, but then when she sees the finished job it looks terrific. Of all seven, it’s the one that most bores me. Well, no, I guess F is a little more boring, but at least F has the “look, ma, no lines!” thing going on, and I’d be interested to see how that would work out.

Well, I’ll be interested to see what Paul thinks. Or I will be, until he says “blech” about all the ones I like best. Right now, B is the one that makes my heart pound faster (it’s even more gorgeous in person), and none of the others seem right—but some of them seem CLOSE and I’d want to go back and see if I could find “something like this but darker” or “something like this but less cold-looking” or “something like this but more interesting.”

Let’s vote! What’s your favorite, and why?

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Pay-it-forward updates:

Sublime Bedlam has a new contest up.

Moo’s Moo is showing the giftie she got, and posting a new contest.

Darn Happy is showing the giftie she got, and posting a new contest.

I’m bored! And lonely! Come over and eat brownies with me, and tell me your life story!

Or, I know: let’s play a game! It’s been a long time since we played A Year Ago Today, A Year From Now. Let’s do that!

A year ago I had a 7-week old, two 2-year-olds, a 6-year-old, and an 8-year-old. I was struggling to find a good birth control option, starting a running program, and trying to reduce clutter.

A year from now I’ll have a 2-year-old, two 4-year-olds, an 8-year-old, and a 10-year-old. I’ll have thrown the birthday party I’ve been saying Rob could have when he turned 10, which I’ve been dreading as it goes from “so far in the future, who cares what I promise?” to “OMG, I really have to follow through on that?”

I’ll probably still be battling clutter. I probably still won’t be exercising regularly. We’ll either have a second bathroom or be working on a second bathroom.

The biggest thing to me is, I wonder if/what we’ll have decided on the “sixth baby” issue? I wonder if I might even be pregnant a year from now? Or, the way these things happen so fast, might the sixth baby already be on the scene? It really does continually amaze me that someone not even pregnant one year can have a 3-month-old one single year later.

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Pay-it-Forward update:
Hello, Self is showing the giftie she got and starting a new contest.

Tonight is the end of the fast. It was a freaky experience, the whole thing. The novelty was interesting; it wasn’t as impossible as I’d expected (it was even a relief to not have to think endlessly about What to Eat Next); I have some new tools for eating less (boullion is yummy!); and for the first time in about two months I’m looking forward to my Monday weigh-in. Also: to breakfast. I bought some Raisin Bran Crunch, the beautiful love child of Frosted Flakes and Raisin Bran.

I think six days was my limit: this morning (the seventh) my muscles felt weak and weird, and I didn’t feel enthusiastic about the idea anymore. And Erica did TEN days, and she didn’t do any messing around with modifications like I did. Plus, tomorrow I’m going to be eating a pan of brownies with an experimental peppermint glaze, and Erica is going to be having surgery. So I’d say I got the way easier end of this, just sort of across the board.

Speaking of who gets it easier, I have been seeing some magazine headlines that are cheesing me off. US Weekly says “A-Rod’s Wife: Destroyed by Madonna.” People magazine says “Madonna’s Mess: Did She Bust Up A-Rod’s Marriage?” Do you know who is responsible for busting up A-Rod’s marriage, if he had an affair with Madonna? A-Rod. Certainly I can see why A-Rod’s wife would be pissed with Madonna—but if we’re talking about responsibility, A-Rod’s marriage contract is A-Rod’s responsibility, not Madonna’s.

Angelina Jolie is always getting that kind of crap, too, and I wonder why BRAD PITT doesn’t get 100% of that crap? Angelina Jolie didn’t make a binding legal and romantic contract with Jennifer Aniston, BRAD PITT did. Angelina Jolie didn’t leave Jennifer Aniston for someone else, BRAD PITT did. If we are wondering if anything Happened before the end of the marriage, the person who should be getting Eyes of Suspicion is the one bound by the terms of that marriage, namely BRAD PITT. Can I use their full names a few more times? ANGELINA JOLIE BRAD PITT JENNIFER ANISTON.

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Pay-it-forward updates:

Cookiemonks is showing the giftie she got.

Blondie Speaks is showing the giftie she got, and starting a new contest.

We’re going to put a second bathroom in the house, down in our semi-finished basement. Problem: I need to clear at least two large utility shelf units just to TALK about putting a bathroom in.

Well. This is a struggle for an apocalyptic-minded, nostalgic, can’t-throw-away-stuffed-animals-because-it’s-too-sad, fully-prepared-for-every-contingency type. And about HALF of what we have is handmedown kid clothes, and those are staying: that’s MONEY we’re storing in those boxes.

So, the other half. It’s things like china we never use. Books from my childhood we never read and the kids aren’t interested in. Dolls and doll clothes I bought during the time we had to wait longer than expected for a third pregnancy and apparently I went a little crazy. Video tapes, some still in their plastic wrap. Childhood journals and papers and school report cards. “Heirlooms” Paul’s mother gave us (including a ratty, rotting hairbrush that was Paul’s pinehole father’s).

Some of it, I wish the entire world had a collective brain so that I could find the few people who are probably scouring antique stores and eBay right this second (well, or I guess a lot of shops are closed by now) looking for the stuff I have, and would love it and cherish it. But I can’t do that, even with the power of the Internet, because 99% of my responses would be antiques dealers pretending not to be antiques dealers.

Paul thinks I’m a little silly to care if someone else profits from something I don’t want and don’t want to sell. I don’t think it’s silly. To use an extreme and unfairly emotional example, if I wanted to donate food to hungry people, I wouldn’t want someone to intercept that food and SELL it to the hungry people. And in this case, I want to give my service-for-twelve (minus one teacup) to someone who would cherish the china—not to someone who will SELL it to the people who would cherish the china.

The clutter book I’m reading is just like “THROW IT OUT! Why let it take up valuable real estate?” And I see his point, but I don’t want to THROW OUT something someone else is pining for. So there, clutter book!

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Pay-it-forward updates:

Our House is showing the giftie she got, and starting a new contest.

and the duck said… is showing the giftie she got.

I have a heart owie that there is no real Blogstle. I even spent a little time last night lying in bed trying to think of a way it would actually work. I came up with two ideas, both of which involve me being (1) a different/richer/assertive-er person, with (2) fewer children.

But it COULD happen, couldn’t it? Not the different/fewer thing, but Blogstle! I mean, THEORETICALLY? THEORETICALLY we could have blind pool boys and coolers of ice cream pints? There are no LAWS preventing us, at least. And no shortage of blind pool boys, obviously.

Well. At least we can enter contests:

Move Along – There’s Nothing to See Here is showing her giftie and posting a new, multi-winner PiF contest.

Honestly and Truly! is showing her giftie and posting new a PiF contest.

Righters’ Writings is showing her giftie and posting a new PiF contest.

Teacher Mom has a new contest up.

The Creamery is showing her giftie and posting a new PiF contest

My Very Last Nerve has a new contest up.

Mona and I have been wracking our brains: what can those of us who are NOT going to BlogHer do while everyone else is busy showing each other their cute outfits and talking about Promoting Their Brands? I was thinking of some sort of “All Eating, All the Time” weekend. We could call it This Little Piggy Stayed Home.

But I will still be fasting this weekend. I have stopped feeling sorry that I did not start the same day Erica did: 7 days is PLENTY of this.

Do you know, if I were designing Swistle’s Ideal Blogger Conference (Blogstle), I would want it to be a jean-and-tees event. Pajamas would be okay, too. Comfy shoes. Ponytails. Now entering the mascara-free zone.

Lots of food: big buffet tables of pizza and chicken and tacos and chips and these potatoes, a big freezer case of ice cream pints (container of spoons nearby), big pots of melted cheese and melted chocolate and pizza sauce for dipping. We’d skip the vegetables, even if we like them, so that no one could make anyone else feel bad by self-righteously eating nothing but a plate of produce and then claiming to be stuffed.

There would be no “early morning yoga” to sign up for, heavens no. There would be no early-morning ANYTHING to sign up for: if I have time away from the kids, I am SLEEPING IN. Things to sign up for would include:

• Breakfast in Bed (Served at 10:30 a.m.)
• Dessert in Bed (Served at 10:30 p.m.)
• Someone Else Doing Our Nails While We Sit in a Long Row and Talk
• Haircuts Without Having to Arrange Babysitting
• Seminar: Is This Fun or What?
• Seminar: Are You Tired of Hearing Yourself Called a Narcissist Because You Write Publicly? and Other Blogger Woes
• Debate: Pie, Yummy or Yucky? (Tastes Provided)
• Brownie Lesson: Bake a Batch or Just Sit Near Counter and Watch/Taste/Talk
• Debate: Fudge, With or Without Nuts? (Pound of Each Provided to Each Participant)
• Book Club Meeting: Everyone Lie Around With a Lightweight Book She Wants to Read, Reading Funny/Interesting Parts Aloud
• Fitness: Watch 1980s Fitness Videos and Make Snorting Sounds
• Lab: Try Every Single Sephora Philosophy Product Ever Made
• Hanging Around Talking

If you are interested in other events, please let me know and I’ll see if I can find an instructor.