lightening up

The summer is really starting to heat up, and whenever the hot weather comes, my knee-jerk reaction is to get rid of some stuff. Less clutter and more space in my rooms somehow makes me feel cooler.

I've been wanting to get rid of a few pieces of second-hand furniture for a couple of weeks, but it took me that long to really commit to no longer having them in my life. My name is Michelle Lynne Goodfellow, and I have a chair fetish. Also: I covet worn things.

But tomorrow is garbage day, so out to the curb I took everything this afternoon. Luckily I live in a neighbourhood where curb surfing is not only tolerated, but expected.

Above and below are two chairs I found while curb surfing myself last year. I really like them, but one is kind of loosey-goosey, and I haven't been able to fix it with my Lee Valley Chair Doctor set, so it's kind of dubious seating. I have plenty of working chairs in my apartment that I like better.

I think the guys (my cats Tear and Guy) are going to miss them, though. Here's Tear taking one last sniff.


I'm also getting rid of a lectern I found at a church rummage sale several years ago. It has seen me through endless hours of singing practice, and when not in use as a music stand it made a great place to display coffee table books. But I don't really have room for it anymore, so it's going too. (For pics, see my junk style blog, here.)

Having trouble getting rid of some of something? Ask yourself these questions:

Do I really like it? (In the case of my chairs: Yes.)
Do I actually use it? (Yes.)
Do I have too many things just like it? (Yes.)
Is it broken? (Yes.)
Will I feel better without it in my space? (WAY yes.)

If you still can't bear to actually part with it, put it in storage for six months to a year. At the end of that time ask yourself: Do I miss it? If the answer is no... get rid of it!

the niggly stuff

I have recently been faced with a problem that I often see with my clients - the inability to get rid of the tiny, niggly little stuff that has no immediate use.

The above shot is a photo of the inside of the medicine cabinet in my bathroom. I don't own much make-up, so the three shelves are filled with essential oils, dental floss, toothpaste, bath salts and the massage oil that I add to my daily baths. I keep the oil in a beautiful glass bottle, and until recently the bottle cork was topped by a lovely wooden ball.

The wooden ball has come off.


Now, I love wood. You'll find wooden objects throughout my apartment. It pleased me to no end that my oil bottle had a wood-topped cork.

But that wooden ball is now non-functional. It's so impregnated with oil that I could never glue it back onto the cork again. (Which is probably how it came unglued in the first place.) I have no other use for it.

But could I get rid of it? Not for several weeks.

First I tried shoving it back onto the cork, hoping they would stay stuck together. Then I got irritated every time I tried to uncork the bottle and the wooden ball came off in my hand.

It's just so beautiful. How could I throw it out? Indecisive, I kept it on my medicine cabinet shelf.

I see this with organizing clients all the time. They can't make a decision, so they don't make a decision - not realizing that they have just, by default, made a decision. To keep it.

My advice? Just get rid of it. Find a good home for it if you can (reduce, reuse, recycle), but if after several days (or weeks) you find yourself paralysed by not knowing what to do with it, just get rid of it.

My wooden ball went into the garbage this morning.

how to organize a pile of papers (and other stuff)

I cleaned off my fridge earlier today, and was left with a pile of photographs, papers and Christmas cards that I needed to put away. While I was at it, I also decided to tackle another pile of stuff that needed filing or organizing.

Check out this Facebook album for photographs which illustrate this entire post. You don't need to be a Facebook member to view the album.*

First I put everything on top of my kitchen table. Professional organizers call this a "staging area". Make sure you have a large, clear space to sort your stuff, or you'll get frustrated much more quickly.

Then (and this is the easiest part), sort everything into smaller piles of similar items.

WARNING: This is where most people stop. They sort their piles, and then - overwhelmed by the work involved in actually doing something with each pile - they simply re-pile everything and call it a day. Do yourself a favour, and move on to the next step in the process.

This part is infinitely more challenging: Take each individual pile and DEAL WTH IT. It will help if you have another large, clear surface on which to do the sub-sorting. (In my case, my (large and normally spotless) desk is just steps from my kitchen table. I live in a bachelor apartment, which sometimes has its advantages.)

My first pile of paper was a bunch of letter-sized paper that needed to be recycled - except that each page was printed on only one side, and so would be great to use for scrap paper in my printer when I'm running off rough drafts of documents.

Luckily I have a spot for this kind of thing - in a magazine box near my printer, where I also store plain white paper and a specialty paper I frequently use.

The second "pile" of stuff was actually just one page - a template I use when cutting out the business cards that I print myself. I have a guillotine paper cutter that gives a professional edge - but I need to know how much to cut off. This page got stored in the magazine box with the printer paper.

The third pile was actually a bunch of piles of stuff that simply needed to be filed away in my filing cabinet. I have places for all of it - I was just lazy about doing the actual filing.

My filing system isn't fancy. I have six deep drawers for files, and I use hanging file folders to keep things neat. Each drawer is sorted roughly by category, and within each drawer the files are organized alphabetically or by subject.

Another pile - of church bulletins - needed filing. I have a bad habit of carrying church bulletins home with me rather than leaving them behind at the church. Most of them are actually headed for the blue box.

Ah, Christmas cards. I actually save Christmas cards - on purpose. I reuse them in handmade cards that I sell for charity each Christmas season. I even encourage other people to give me their old cards.

Cards that I'm going to reuse get their fronts torn away from the backs - I only save the fronts. They go in a file folder in one of my filing cabinets.

Cards that I'm going to save because they have special notes in them go in a keepsake box. I also collect stamps for art projects; they go in another keepsake box. The keepsake boxes (as well as sewing and craft supplies) are kept in a large locker which also stores my t-shirts and sweaters, some shoes, and my yoga mats.

There was a small pile of stuff that belonged in my wallet. I wasn't going to clean out my wallet at this time, but as I went to put a Starbucks gift card in one of the credit card slots, I realized I had a bunch of used-up gift cards and expired membership cards.

It's a good thing I started sorting through my wallet - I also found an expired insurance card for my car. Oops!

The expired cards were cut up, and the rest were sorted and put in their proper slots.

My fridge is often a gallery space for drawings that I or my niece and nephew make. I have a file folder in one of my filing cabinets for small artwork like this.

Dad gave me a Sudoku calendar a year or two ago, and I usually tear off a few puzzles every month or so to stick in my date book or my car to solve when I have some time to kill. The Sudoku pad goes back where it came from, into one of the magazine boxes.

I had a bunch more stuff that needed filing, as well as some papers with phone numbers and other time-sensitive info that I usually put into a spiral-bound notebook that I carry with me everywhere. I date the pages as I write lists or staple scraps of paper into it. It's a great, centralized place to keep all those stray bits of information that I need.

I should have mentioned earlier that, when working on my piles, I chose the easiest ones first and left some of the most challenging (or time-consuming) ones for last. Receipts are the bane of my existence. I have to keep many of them to claim for business expenses on my income tax, and normally I try to keep on top of them so they don't pile up.

This year they've piled up. (Somewhat.)

I created four new piles: bank slips, and piles of receipts for October, November and December. These piles of receipts also have a home in one of my filing cabinets - categorized by month. Sometime before I do my income tax return I'll sift through them again and weed out the ones that I don't need.

I got two cameras for Christmas - one an inexpensive "accident reporting" kit, the other a more-expensive Kodak. I can't install on my computer the disc for the cheap one, so I need to ask the person who gave it to me what she would prefer I do with it (return it to the store where she bought it, give it away...?)

I tore down the box for the Kodak (it went in my blue box), and collected into one small plastic baggie all the pertinent bits and pieces that I'm keeping. I store electronic stuff like this in a basket on one of my shelves. The other camera got put in my "holding area," where I store stuff before returning it or donating it.

My biggest chore was sorting a bunch of photographs that I've had out all fall. Now that I have a digital camera, I can file these snapshots away. I have a bankers box where I keep all my photos, and it was actually less of a chore than I'd thought to quickly sort all the photos into their proper envelopes, labeling the ones that didn't yet have labels. The bankers box of photos is stored on another one of my shelves.

At the end of the job I had recyclables and garbage left over. I shred anything with my name and address on it, or anything to do with my finances.

My shelves are once again tidy, and ready for the next onslaught of paper clutter...

*Instructions for viewing the album on Facebook: Click on the first photograph to read the description of that photo. To proceed to the next photo in the series, simply click on the current photo, or click on "Next" in top right corner of the page.

eco-friendly organizing

I found this online article while doing a Google search of Toronto organizers. Two of my friends and colleagues are mentioned in the story.

Once in a while, even socially conscious granola types can have problems managing clutter. We may be avid recyclers and conscious shoppers with personal spaces that most times at least are warm and welcoming. But sometimes a major life change – whether a pudgy, squealing infant, new home-based business, a death in the family, or illness – can mess things up...

Read the rest of the article here. Included are a number of links to recycling resources.

organizing magazines

Magazines are a pretty straightforward thing to organize. Most of them have a date somewhere on the cover. Arrange them by date. Arrange different magazines by subject, or alphabetically. Done.

The real issues with magazines are:

1) People rarely have time to read them in the first place.
2) People read them and want to save a particular article, but never make note of it.
3) People make note of an interesting article, but never go back and read it again. Ever.
4) People basically almost never re-read their magazines.
5) If magazines aren't stored accessibly (i.e. on shelves), your chances of actually re-reading them are even slimmer.
6) Magazines can take up a lot of room.
7) Magazines seem to like to live in piles.
8) Piles of magazines seem to like to topple over at inopportune moments.

The easy solution to organizing magazines? Don't keep them. (And if you really don't have time to read them, don't buy them in the first place!)

It's time to get real with yourself. Are you honest about your magazine habits?

If you never have time to read your magazines, why do you buy so many? Could you buy fewer each month? If you realistically can't think of a way to make more time in your life to read two, five, or 10 magazines per month (don't laugh—I used to regularly buy about double that!), consider going cold turkey for a while.

There's an amazing book by Elaine St. James called Living the Simple Life: A Guide to Scaling Down and Enjoying More. In it St. James lists 10 ways to free up miscellaneous amounts of time in your life over the next thirty days, so that you can start thinking about how to simplify your life. Way number three is to stop reading magazines.

Let's say you don't want to stop reading magazines. Can you at least get rid of them once you're done with them? Recycle them, or donate them to a local women's shelter, health care practitioner's office or hospital waiting room. Or pass them along to friends with similar interests. Or donate them to schools for art projects.

If you can't get rid of them, can you only keep the ones you really love—and have space for? I was serious when I said that most people don't re-read their old magazines. That's a lot of dead (and heavy) energy sitting on your bookshelf. Not to mention the guilt of knowing that there are articles you'd like to read again, but you can't find them, and never have time to read them anyhow. That kind of guilt eats away at your peace of mind, and keeps you from enjoying the life you should be enjoying.

I grew up in a house where my mom read a lot of magazines, and she kept all her back issues. When I was really young, the back issues lived in boxes in the basement. They were a treasure-trove of inspiration when I was about 12 years old, and discovered her Good Housekeeping magazines from the late 60s and early 70s (keep in mind I was born in '67, so it's not like they were even vintage by that point). I fell in love with the look of pastel-coloured babydoll dresses and kohl eyeliner, and was fascinated by the romance novels abridged within each issue.

For a 12-year-old, the pack-rattiness of my mother's magazine habits was a boon. But for my mother—who didn't have a lot of storage space—the magazines became a burden. Eventually she threw them out. (I know, I know. People would probably pay good money for them today. Which reminds me—if you have truly vintage magazines, you can probably find a place to donate or sell them. Here in Toronto, I know a man with a costume warehouse who will take old clothing catalogues and clothing patterns, as well).

My mom still buys magazines. And still has lots of back issues hanging around. At least now she usually gets rid of them when they're about a year old.

As a teenager, I incessantly bought fashion magazines. And as I grew older, my interests broadened and I brought home a huger range of titles every month. When I was 26 I bought myself six IKEA Billy bookcases to store my collection of back issues (as well as my collection of books).

When I ran out of shelf space, I started storing things (magazines, books) in boxes in the basement. I also collected old newspapers, by the way. For the photographs. I was an artist, and loved acquiring images of people, especially faces.

My back issues and newspapers got out of hand. There were so many things I wanted to keep, but I didn't have space for them. I didn't want to throw them out, either. I liked to cut up magazines for collages—just think of all the raw material I would be losing if I got rid of everything!

Eventually I realized that, even if I could find the time to go through all my back issues and newspapers and clip everything I wanted to save, it would take me years to get through all the boxes.

And that wasn't how I wanted to spend my time.

So I recycled most of it. And felt amazing afterwards. I still have magazines—approximately 32' of shelf space worth of them (including 30 years of National Geographics). But I do have space for them. And I actually use them. And I get rid of things when I run out of space and want to add new books or magazines.

If you've read this far and you still want to keep your magazines, make sure you have room. You need proper bookcases or durable storage furniture. Magazines are heavy. I recommend storing magazines vertically on shelves, in cardboard (or plastic) magazine holders. The holders make it easy to pull the magazines on and off the shelves without the other magazines slithering all over the place.

When you run out of shelf space, don't add any new magazines unless you remove some old ones.

And believe it or not, you may eventually decide that you don't really want to keep magazines anyhow. I’ve let go of a lot of titles that I would once never have parted with. And whenever I move again, I have a sneaking suspicion that most of the rest won’t make the cut.

(Which reminds me of a funny story from my move last September. My boyfriend and his best friend were helping out, and when the best friend looked down at the labels on the three large boxes he was dollying to the elevator, he did a double-take.

“I can’t believe I just moved Oprah,” he exclaimed.)

extreme purging

Are you inspired by reading about organizing and organization?

One of my favorite books about the voluntary simplicity movement is by author Elaine St. James. In Living the Simple Life she tells the story of a family who lost their home in a fire. When the time came to begin replacing their possessions, they suddenly realized how few of their former things they really needed.

They had experienced a shocking loss, yet were able to see the silver lining in their tragedy. They got a chance to start all over again, creating a life (and a home) that was a true expression of their values.

If your house was on fire and you had only moments to escape, what would you take with you?

Most of us have at least a few irreplaceables: photos, mementos, family heirlooms. But stop a moment and think. How important are those things, really?

What I've found as I've done layer after layer of my own purging is that there is really very little that I can't live without. I'm fond of my favorite possessions, yes - but my life will not be diminished by their loss.

There's something very freeing in this attitude. If my things don't matter, I can spend more energy on the stuff that does - like friendship, and joyful activities, and personal development.

I moved last fall, and I've helped others move in the months since. Every time I lug a box full of stuff that I know won't get unpacked for months - if ever! - I question the sanity of our culture (and my friends and clients).

Sometimes I entertain a fantasy: What if I moved to Europe? What if I couldn't take more than a couple of suitcases with me? What if I lived my life with everything I needed, packed into a carry-on bag?

This is extreme purging. And I'm feeling the pull. Every time I let go of another thing I once thought I could never live without, I feel like I've lost 20 pounds. (Do I smell a reality show somewhere...?)

the need for order

I've been living in chaos for the last few weeks, as I try to purge some of my possessions from my bachelor apartment. I love a clean, spare look in interior design - but I have a lot of stuff! Sometimes it's hard to reconcile the two.

One thing I know for sure: I feel better when things are neat, tidy, and organized. My living space is multi-purposed - it has to serve as bedroom, living room, dining room, home office, and artist's studio. Sometimes I feel overwhelmed by the amount of stuff I need to have accessible on a daily basis.

It's easy to get bogged-down by a large number of material possessions. And when they are scattered around our spaces without any clear "home," they can drain our emotional energy as we find ourselves constantly searching for things, or moving things from pile to pile, or avoiding piles we're afraid to touch for fear they might tumble over.

My organizing solution has been to create a wall-o'-shelves that holds most of the things I regularly need. I married two of my favorite design themes - industrial chic and European rustic - by acquiring sturdy wooden utility shelving, and arranging an eclectic assortment of natural baskets and vintage wooden soft drink crates on the shelves. You'll also find a boom box and my computer equipment tucked in there, as well.

The floor-to-ceiling shelves maximize the storage space, allowing the centre of the room to be left clear and open. In fact, almost every inch of wall space in my entire apartment is utilized for storage, whether it's bookshelves, grey storage lockers, or the abovementioned utility shelving.

When everything is put away, there is nothing on my dining table/work table, and nothing on my desk except my laptop computer. I have almost no knick-knacks (I hate dusting). Only baskets, baskets, and more baskets...

copyright 2007, Michelle Lynne Goodfellow

plastic shopping bags

I decided to sort and dispose of all those plastic shopping bags I mentioned in my previous post. It was an eye-opening task; I consider myself pretty eco-conscious, but I couldn't reconcile my green efforts with the number of bags I found in my closet.

I started sorting them by size: grocery-bag-sized (and larger), or smaller bags (the kind you get at the video store or the drugstore - which is where I got mine).

About half-way through the sorting I realized I have WAY more bags than I imagined. I counted them: 121 large bags, and 42 small ones. It's only taken me seven-and-a-half months to acquire them - and I'm pretty frugal. I don't shop much. Plus I make good use of cloth bags and plastic bins whenever I shop for groceries. (Or so I thought - turns out most of the large bags are, indeed, grocery bags.)

I can't believe I have so many. Me - the eco-warrior!

I plan not to accept any more. I have plenty of cloth bags I can use when I shop. But what am I supposed to do with the ones I've already got?

There are the obvious uses:

• re-use them in stores
• use them as garbage bags
• give them to a friend with a dog or a cat (for scooping poop)
• donate them to a thrift store or a church rummage sale (which is where I think mine are going)

I figured there must be more creative uses for them, so I did an online search. About.com has a "frugal-living" guide, and one article discusses plastic shopping bags. Reader's Digest has its own list, as does Real Simple. Or you can try your own internet search, using the keywords "uses for plastic shopping bags."

Some of my favorite ideas:

• use them to wrap brushes or rollers if you have to stop in the middle of a painting job - they will keep the paint from drying out for up to two days
• use them as packing material instead of Styrofoam peanuts
• use them to hold wet things (like compact umbrellas in your purse, or towels from your gym workout)
• use them to hold dirty laundry when you're on a trip

Some grocery stores also accept the plastic bags for recycling - so if they're full of holes and not good for anything else, don't throw them in the garbage!

copyright 2007, Michelle Lynne Goodfellow

the midst of chaos

How is organizing like childbirth? You might find yourself at the most difficult part, wishing you could change your mind about the whole darn thing.

How is organizing NOT like childbirth? With childbirth, there really is no turning back.

One more way organizing's like childbirth: the worst part won't last forever.

All of this is hard to remember when you're smack dab in the middle of a purge. As I am right now. I'm paralyzed by all the things that need to be done and the choices that need to be made. So you see, even professional organizers aren't immune. We feel the labour pains, too.

My biggest challenge at the moment: I'm trying to do too many things at once. My goal today was to clean out my "closet of shame," also known as the eighty-cubic-foot BLACK HOLE. Open the door at your own risk - heavy objects are guaranteed to fall on your head (while empty plastic grocery bags spread like confetti at your feet).

But I couldn't tackle the closet first. I had to work up to it. So I washed the breakfast dishes... and wrote a blog entry... and had a snack... and washed my snack dishes... and fed my compost worms... and discovered my compost worms were too wet... and shredded new paper bedding for my compost worms... and decided to add the shrivelled-up tulips a friend gave me a month ago to the worm bedding... and dug up the tulip bulbs, and bagged and labelled them to give to my ex when he shows up later today to pick up something else... and wiped off the table where I'd made a mess of the tulips...

I finally opened the door of my closet and took everything out. I wanted to sweep the closet floor, since I had kept some lavender sprigs in there, and they'd dropped lavender buds everywhere like mouse spoor.

So I went to get the Swiffer... and realized I'd piled all my junk too close to the door of the closet... so I moved everything further from the closet... and swept out the closet... and got distracted by the mops I kept in the closet, which I never use... and I called up my friend who just moved into a new apartment, to see if she wanted a mop... and I realized I'd never heard back from my ex about whether or not he was actually coming today, so I had to call him too... and then I freaked out because my apartment is a mess, and I don't want him to see it like this... and then I remembered all the other things I need to give him when he comes, so I raced about, collecting them...

Then I decided I was hungry (even though it's not really lunchtime, and I've already eaten breakfast AND a snack this morning). I sat down in front of the computer to eat my lunch, and that's how I ended up writing my second blog entry of the morning.

Organzing tip: Try not to get sidetracked.

Reality check: If you get sidetracked, learn how to shepherd yourself back to the primary task.

Epidural, anyone?

copyright 2007, Michelle Lynne Goodfellow

kitchen utensils

Take me to Williams-Sonoma or the IKEA kitchen section, and I'm like a kid in a candy store. The Pampered Chef? Don't even go there. I drool over kitchen utensils the way seven-year-olds drool over penny candy. I'll take one of these gadgets here, and a couple of those tools over there...

But eventually the voice of reason must step in - I mean, how many wooden spoons does one woman actually need? (Especially when I don't even use wooden spoons?)

Have you ever wondered how FEW cooking utensils can you get away with using? It's a great question to ask if you want to do a purge.

Take a look at what you actually use on a daily basis. I'm betting you have one or two favorite knives, a favorite spatula, a favorite cooking spoon, and a favorite scraper. What if you got rid of everything else?

I know, I know - that melon baller might come in handy if you're ever making a fruit salad for guests. But how often do you actually make fruit salad for guests?

I'm not suggesting that you get rid of the things you really use. Just give careful thought to the objects that are taking up precious space in your kitchen.

My personal weakness is rummage sales - I love vintage utensils with their charming patina, and it takes all my self-control to resist buying every wooden rolling pin in sight. (I don't even bake.)

I've created a few ground rules for myself. I try to buy nothing that isn't stainless steel or wood. (That means no plastic, no silicone, no aluminum.)

I've weeded my utensils down to the few I really use, and remind myself every time I'm in a kitchen store that NOBODY NEEDS ANYTHING. (Well, okay - maybe it's just me that doesn't need anything.)

I'm a vegetarian foodie who avoids Teflon pans. Here are my basics:

• one chef's knife
• one bread knife
• one paring knife
• one pair of utility scissors
• utility snips

In my utensils drawer I keep:

• a vegetable peeler
• a combination can-opener/bottle opener
• a jar opener (it releases the vacuum and makes opening new jars easier)
• a garlic press
• small tongs
• measuring spoons
• two stainless steel bag clips
• pliers (great for breaking up cinnamon bark or cracking nuts)
• a fine wood rasp (amazing for mincing fresh ginger or grating parmesan)
• a large, flat grater
• a small ladle
• a wooden citrus ream
• a honey "spoon"
• a pastry brush
• a tiny funnel
• a cheese slicer
• a pizza slicer
• tea balls and strainers (I'm an herbal tea fanatic)
• a ball of string
• a vintage candy thermometer (it's just so cool)
• a rolling pin (can't get rid of it yet)

In a large clay flower pot I keep my long utensils handy:

• two wooden stirrers with flat edges for stirring pots (I use them more than anything else in my kitchen)
• two stainless spoons with flat edges, one with holes for drainage
• a larger, flat ladle with holes for drainage
• two other ladles in different sizes
• a wire whisk
• two sizes of tongs
• a vintage potato masher with a wooden handle
• a spatula
• an ice cream scoop
• a vintage crank-style egg beater

That's it. It sounds like a lot, but only takes up one narrow drawer and eight square inches of counter space. How low can you go?

copyright 2007, Michelle Lynne Goodfellow

the "i don' wanna" demons

Even the most conscientious of us fall into the procrastination trap from time to time. I feel your pain. I need to finish a purge of my apartment soon, so I can donate everything to my church rummage sale (Church of St Timothy, Anglican) by next weekend. I'm in the middle a heart-breaking split from my boyfriend. I'm cranky. I can't focus. I don't want to do anything that challenges my brain.

I've had many clients with similar emotional or mental resources - running the gamut from ailing seniors to disorganized chronic-fatigue sufferers. How do you deal with the "I don' wanna" demons? Try the following suggestions:

1. Get help. When all else fails, if you really can't muster the energy or inspiration to do it on your own, ask a friend for help, or hire a professional.
2. Know your peak energy periods during the day, and make good use of those times.
3. Start small. Set the timer for half an hour, and stop when it goes off. Do this often enough, and you will reinforce the idea that sorting and purging isn't that difficult after all.
4. Start with the easy stuff. It may sound like a cop-out, but if it gets you moving...
5. Take a break when you get tired. Get away from the mess. Get out of the house. Go for a walk. You'll return with a fresh eye and renewed energy.
6. Reward yourself for a job well done. We're more likely to continue behaviors that are positively reinforced.

copyright 2007, Michelle Lynne Goodfellow

sorting other people's stuff

At various times in our lives we may find ourselves sorting through other people's things. You help a friend move - or you clear out a relative's house after a death. When I had my eco-friendly cleaning business, I felt it was a sacred trust to be invited into people's most intimate spaces. And in my organizing work I am continually reminded of how careful I must be not to abuse anyone's faith in me.

But I still find myself fascinated by the things that people hold onto. Last night I was sorting through some papers that a friend gave me to dispose of. They were mostly photocopies of vocal music that another friend had studied over the years; she had given them to him thinking they might be of value to his teaching studio, but he prefers to work from legitimate original scores. Besides, he didn't want to take the time to sort through four thick binders full of paper.

So I did the work for him, patiently flipping through the songs to see if there was anything worth keeping. In the end, most of it went in the recycling bin. (Photocopying sheet music without the publisher's permission is illegal, after all.)

I find it very humbling to go through other people's things. I've studied singing myself, so I was familiar with much of the classical repertoire I looked at last night. It felt so personal, seeing this woman's handwriting on the pages. Musicians often mark up their scores, but I think singers do the most: breath marks, phrasing marks, translations of foreign words, reminders of how to pronounce certain vowels - and my favorite, the forests of exclamation marks and emphatic arrows pointing all over the place.

Looking through this woman's scores I could "read" her bad habits and her weaknesses. I could hear the comments her teachers made to her. I could feel her struggles with each song. Those photocopies were a record of her vocal development, and it seemed a sacrilege to throw them away.

When my brother died ten years ago, I helped my mother go through some of his things. Realistically, you can't keep it all. But it was my brother's running logs that touched me the most. In his engineer's tiny, precise handwriting he had recorded week after week of daily runs - weather, mileage, pace, heart rate. Running meant a lot to him, and it was an interest I shared when I served as his support team for his first (and only) marathon.

I didn't want to let those books go - even though I never looked through them, and kept them packed away in a box in the basement. Finally, years later, I was able to say good-bye. I kept his marathon medal, and that was enough.

I think what gives us pause is the thought that what matters most to us won't matter at all to the people we leave behind. And if a life can be reduced to a few recycling boxes' worth of paper, what does that say about the value of our lives?

More and more I think the value of a life is the personal connections we make with other people - the little ways we show love, and caring, and compassion. And none of it is ever lost. Love, once expressed, feeds the love of the universe.

copyright 2007, Michelle Lynne Goodfellow

donating versus selling

Sometimes when we're faced with getting rid of something, we balk at donating it or giving it away for free. It's understandable, especially if we've invested a lot in the object, and it has maintained its value or appreciated in value.

A case in point: I recently sold my crystal singing bowl, which was worth $400 new. I couldn't rationalize giving it away, so I listed it on craigslist, and was thrilled to sell it for $200 to a musician who uses singing bowls to accompany dancers.

On the other hand, I've known clients who couldn't get rid of their clutter - even though it was interfering with their lives - because they couldn't find buyers for their things and they refused to let the stuff go for free.

I had one client, for example, with several boxes of craft materials that cost hundreds of dollars. There was no obvious market for the raw materials in her small community, but she could not bear to lose her investment. So she stubbornly hung onto the stuff, dreaming of the day when she would get her money back - in the meantime weighed down and hampered by the things, not only physically, but mentally and emotionally.

Entertain the possibility that the old maxim, What goes around comes around, might be true. If you can generously and without remorse give your possessions to the natural flow of universal energy, you will be repaid in kind somewhere down the road.

Find a recipient who makes your heart feel lighter. I rediscovered the benefits of this when I recently gave away my hand drum to an inner city music program (read the details here). My initial reaction was sadness at the loss of a treasured possession, but now I can honestly say that I'm thoroughly delighted with my choice.

Give it a thought. Give it away.

copyright 2007, Michelle Lynne Goodfellow

the cooling-off period

I'm in the middle of a purge (my own - not a client's), and I'm reminded that when we're getting rid of stuff, we need to give ourselves a chance to change our minds.

We won't always choose to keep something that we originally planned to give away. But if you're really not sure (and sometimes even if you are), listen to your heart and put the thing(s) in a safe place until the decision to let go seems right.

A case in point: In an earlier post I said I wanted to get rid of an antique white china wash basin. I don't use it and I didn't have room to store it.

But something in me just couldn't give it away. I may get rid of it someday; for now I want to keep it.

So I compromised: I made room for it on one of my shelves by getting rid of some other things instead - namely, a wok and a copper bowl.

A frequently-mentioned organizing tip is to box up whatever you want to purge, and then store the box in a safe place until a certain date - say, six months or a year from now.

Then when that date rolls around, if you haven't gone into the box to find something you needed, get rid of it without even opening it again.

My nemesis is books; I love to buy them, but I have only a finite amount of shelf space. So I weed through them every now and then, but then procrastinate actually getting rid of the books I've pulled off the shelves.

After several years I realized I need time to re-evaluate the book-purging decisions. Sometimes I go through the books again (usually after a couple of months) and confirm that I really don't want them anymore. Other times I put a few of them back on my shelves. The only downside is that I really don't have room to store them in the meantime.

Use your own best judgement. Don't let yourself be bullied into getting rid of everything quickly if that's not what you want. You have choices, you know.

copyright 2007, Michelle Lynne Goodfellow

just throw out 50 things

I read a great article ("The Motivator" column) in the latest issue of Real Simple magazine (April 2007). It was written by life coach Gail Blanke, author of Between Trapezes: Flying Into a New Life With the Greatest of Ease.

Says Blanke:

"...when I coach people, I always ask them to throw things out. But not just a few things. At the end of the second or third session, I ask everyone I work with to go home and throw out 50 things.

"In fact, I not only ask them to throw out 50 things but also ask them to make a list of what they're throwing out, so they can look at it later and actually feel lighter. Here's why: When you start throwing out a lot of physical clutter and you get on a roll, a new urge kicks in - the desire to clear out all the clutter in your mind."

Blanke goes on to say that it's easy to get into the swing of throwing things out - just start with the obvious. Her mother once offered some sage advice: "If you don't know what to do with it, or where to put it, or why you ever bought it in the first place, or if looking at it depresses you, throw it out," she'd say. "Never keep anything that makes you feel heavy or weighs you down."

That single sock you've been hanging onto for years (just in case you ever find its mate - or wear out one half of another pair that matches it)? Gone.

That coupon for herbal tea that you keep in your wallet because your friend gave it to you - because she knows you used to drink herbal tea (but you don't anymore - although you probably should, but that would mean finding a place to keep the tea, and really, your cupboards are too full already - besides, you never liked the taste of herbal tea anyhow)? Recycle it.

What about those pennies? You know, the ones that reproduce on the top of your dresser, or in the corners of your desk and kitchen drawers. Maybe you're "organized," and keep a colony of them in a jar in your closet. Gather them up (along with the rest of your small coins) and take them to the automatic counting machine at the grocery store (which reminds me - I need to write a separate post on those machines - I love them!), or dump them into a charity coin box (which is what I do with all my spare change as soon as the cashier hands it to me).

I've already started my list. It looks something like this:

1. Antique white china wash basin. I bought it at a rummage sale because I loved it, but I have no place to put it. And I never use it.
2. Inexpensive black platform flip-flops. I love how tall they make me feel, but I can't walk more than 20 steps in them (they're too wide for my feet), plus the fabric on the uppers is starting to fray.
3. Miniature roulette game I won as a door prize two months ago at a business meeting. Need I say more?
4. Beautiful, large, cream-enameled colander. It drains food perfectly. But I worry about the enamel being hazardous to my health when it scratches and chips off. Plus I own three colanders - including a narrower, higher, stainless steel (read: non-toxic and recyclable) one that fits perfectly in my bar sink.
5. A grilling plank for fish. I'm a vegetarian. I never eat fish - haven't for 21 years. Another rummage sale find, which I thought I could use as a cutting board. But I own two other cutting boards, both of which I love, and both of which are bigger and easier to use.

Once you're warmed up, start thinking of all your mental throwaways - you can even add them to your list of 50. Blanke describes them as "the old convictions, fears, negative assumptions, past "mistakes," and depressing "voices" that weigh you down." Then commit to eliminating them from your day-to-day thinking.

I'm kind of excited about my list of mental purges:

1. My ex-boyfriend was "the only one" for me.
2. I'm never going to find a man who truly loves me.
3. I always mess up my relationships.
4. I'm too needy.
5. Life without romantic love is hopeless.

(Gee, I'm sensing a theme here.)

I think you get the drift. It's spring - the time for renewal and regeneration. Make room for the new growth in your life by cutting back the deadwood.

Make a list.

Enjoy knowing that those things are gone from your life. Then welcome what comes next...

copyright 2007, Michelle Lynne Goodfellow

mourning a purge

Okay, in the interests of full disclosure I should submit an addendum to my previous post. Sometimes you can feel really bad after a purge.

I remember I once lost a lot of weight in a short amount of time, and while I welcomed the weight loss, I found myself strangely sad in my new, skinny body. I realized after several days that I was mourning the loss of my old body. I've never read a weight-loss book that deals with this subject, although there is a lot of work by Jungian psychoanalyst Marion Woodman on this issue.

Similarly, when we get rid of a lot of our things, we can go through a period of feeling unsettled and unhappy. If we define ourselves at least in part by our possessions, losing them is like losing pieces of ourselves.

I just walked down the street and dropped off a tabla (East Indian drum) at a neighbour's house. His son teaches music in the public school system, and uses hand drums in his inner-city music classes. I'm thrilled at the thought of my drum being used by these kids, but part of me is feeling really sad, too.

The drum was given to me few years ago by a couple of dear friends who knew I was interested in learning hand drumming. I cried when I opened their gift - I couldn't believe that they had cared enough about me to pay attention to my dreams.

And I loved playing my drum; I loved the weight and heft of it when I held it between my knees (not proper tabla technique - but it felt right to me); I loved the feel of the taut skin against my fingers and palms; I loved the deep, resonant sounds the drum made when I played it.

Unfortunately, nobody else liked hearing me play my drum. And now I live in an apartment building where I am loathe to make that much noise. The drum has sat for months on a high shelf, untouched. To me, who loves music so much, that is a crime.

Now the drum will be played by exuberant students, but I still feel a pang at its loss. I need the shelf space for other things, but it saddens me that some of my dreams must die so that other dreams can be fulfilled.

How do we deal with these life transitions? One solution might be to create a small, personalized ritual that somehow gives significance to your experience. A simple action (like writing a story, or singing a song about how you're feeling, or creating a drawing that expresses your grief) is sometimes all that's needed.

Don't let potential sadness deter you from purging, however. It's only when we risk falling that we learn to fly...

copyright 2007, Michelle Lynne Goodfellow

purging

Ah, spring!

Sunshine, warmer weather, and the first sightings of the season: yard and rummage sales! I am a bargain fiend, and I love the eclectic look of flea market chic, so my acquisitive blood begins to flow faster when I know that sale season is just around the corner.

This is also a great time of year to begin unloading items you no longer want or need, by hosting your own sale or donating to charitable organizations' sales. If you don't belong to a religious community, find out when groups in your neighbourhood are accepting goods, and plan your purges to coincide with those dates.

How do you tackle a purge?

The biggest mistake most people make is to try and sift through absolutely everything in their house in one fell swoop. This is an example of how organizing shows (which I generally like) have done a great disservice to TV audiences. Never forget that each one-hour show took TWO WHOLE DAYS to film, with dozens of people working behind the scenes to make sure everything got finished on time. And they only organize two rooms - not an entire house.

It is absolutely unrealistic to think that you can accomplish something similar in one weekend by yourself, even with the help of a friend or a professional organizer.

I suggest you give yourself time to make several "passes" over your possessions. Don't feel like you have to make final decisions on everything in one great purge. Break it down into multiple stages, and allow yourself to reflect and make decisions that you can live with in the long term.

The first pass deals with the unequivocables. Some things you just KNOW you have to get rid of. They've probably been staring you in the face, literally or figuratively, for several months. You can't wait to see the last of them. Gather them up and get them out of the house ASAP.

If you feel emboldened, prepare for a second pass. Work on one room at a time, for three or four hours per session, maximum. Any longer, and the body and mind become overwhelmed by the decision-making process.

The "one touch" rule employed by some organizing shows is a great way to start. Take each item one at a time and immediately decide: pitch, keep, or maybe. Throw out or donate the pitches.

The maybes are your third (and fourth and fifth and sixth) pass. If you can, give yourself a few days in between passes to let the unconscious mind weigh in on the whole process. If you feel little tugs telling you you really need to get rid of something, pay attention. By the same token, if some part of you is resisting a "no-brainer" purge, give yourself time to understand why. In the end you may indeed decide it's time to let the item go, but on the other hand procrastination may be the universe's way of telling you that the timing isn't right.

My least-favorite part of the purging process is the emotional turmoil that results from trying to make too many decisions in too short a time. I've talked a bit about this in a previous post, where I quoted Sarah Suzanka, architect and bestselling author of The Not So Big House: A Blueprint for the Way We Really Live (Taunton, 2001).

Suzanka says: "An awful lot of the stuff we have - and I'm not talking about one or two things, I'm talking about 50 percent - we literally never use and are never planning to use again, but can't let go of. They are basically objects in which we've invested dreams that didn't happen. It's very difficult to let go of the dreams, even though we know that they didn't actually bring us the satisfaction we were hoping for."

I've been gearing up for my own purge lately, and it's those dreams and expectations I had for my objects that are making the choices difficult. But I know it's time, because I feel a little itch in my solar plexus that tells me I'm ready to move on.

Do we ever regret purges?

Sometimes. There have been many things I've purged that I later wished I could have back. But I also believe that what goes around, comes around. If I can give freely of something at a certain point in my life, then perhaps later, when I need it, I will receive it again. I would rather live with very little and be surprised by serendipitous finds than hang onto everything and never need any of it. I admire people who can whittle the important things in their life down to one suitcase, and travel lightly.

How much to we really need, anyhow?

copyright 2007, Michelle Lynne Goodfellow

me, the freecycling newbie

I have a new favorite addiction: reading Freecycle posts. I get them downloaded into my e-mail account every day, and I am fascinated by the entire process: Offers, Takens, P/Us...

Freecycle is a Yahoo! group where people can get rid of the things they no longer want: old TVs, kitchen appliances, clothing - you name it, people list it. The great thing is, it's all free. If you see something posted that you want, just contact the person who posted it, and arrange pick-up (P/U). There's a Freecycle group for most cities; in Toronto (where I work as a professional organizer) there are several - one for each major district of the Greater Toronto Area (GTA).

I've already unloaded a few things myself: an extra pair of figure skates I didn't need (they went to a mom who wanted to skate with her kids), some wooden tea boxes (an artist picked those up to make something crafty), a couple of decks of large-faced playing cards (they went to an elderly couple whose vision was failing), and some paper coin wrappers (for a little girl who was cashing in her piggy bank).

I've acquired some new things, too: fabric scraps from somebody's grandmother who'd died, some ladies' blazers (which ended up being too small - in the end, I donated them to Dress Your Best here in Toronto), a professional steam iron, and (my favorite) a room ionizer, which successfully removed a horrible, lingering oil-paint smell from my bachelor apartment when they were renovating one of the suites down the hall a few weeks ago.

All of my experiences with Freecyclers have been wonderful and heart-warming; I especially loved chatting with the guy who gifted me with the ionizer. He's a retired headhunter who "curb surfs" (scoops up things that people leave at the curb for the garbage truck) in his wealthy neighbourhood, then takes the stuff home to fix it up, and finds good homes for everything through Freecycle. He proudly showed me a collection of about half-a-dozen items he had waiting for pick-up the day I got the ionizer.

Downsides? Some people posting items seem to have had bad experiences with "no shows." I haven't run across that problem myself. What encourages me most of all is the thought of these things staying out of the landfill. Too bad I didn't know about Freecycle before I helped my boyfriend clean out his basement in December...

(We might have saved him seven trips to the dump...)

www.freecycle.org

copyright 2007, Michelle Lynne Goodfellow

things, and our attachment to them

I broke a bowl this morning. Half an hour earlier, it'd held my breakfast. As I wrapped the pieces in old grocery bags, to put them in the trash, the porcelain was still warm from the scalding dishwater in which I'd washed it.

The kicker is, I've only recently purged a lot of my extra dishes. I'm a big fan of "junk style" or "shabby chic," and over the years I've collected a lot of mismatched but complementary table wares from rummage and yard sales. How many plates does one woman in a bachelor apartment really need, though? I decided to pare down, and kept just eight of each of the basic items: dinner plates, bread plates, and bowls.

As I boxed up the extras to take to Value Village, I worried: What if I break something that I've kept? But I realized that if I broke something, I could always go to IKEA and buy another whatever-I-broke, very inexpensively.

The second kicker is, the bowl I broke was one of my favorites. All my dishes are either white or cobalt blue, and this particular bowl was white with blue transferware strawberry blossoms on it. I'd kept two, and now I only have one.

What is important to us? A bowl is just a bowl. If somebody tells me tomorrow that I only have six months to live, a broken bowl will be the least of my worries.

But that bowl gave me pleasure. It made me happy just to look at it... and it made me even happier to think about sharing a meal with somebody else - the two of us eating out of matching strawberry bowls.

There's a great article on organizing in the January/February 2007 issue of Natural Home magazine, and in a side-bar to the article there's an amazing quote by Sarah Suzanka, architect and bestselling author of The Not So Big House: A Blueprint for the Way We Really Live (Taunton, 2001).

Suzanka says: "An awful lot of the stuff we have - and I'm not talking about one or two things, I'm talking about 50 percent - we literally never use and are never planning to use again, but can't let go of. They are basically objects in which we've invested dreams that didn't happen. It's very difficult to let go of the dreams, even though we know that they didn't actually bring us the satisfaction we were hoping for."

This quote resonates with me, and it reminds me that my dream of sharing a strawberry-bowl meal is maybe (just maybe!) not as important as sharing a meal, period. I still don't know what to do about the bowl; I could go to Value Village and buy back one of the ones I gave away (Oh yes, I gave away four of them!)... or I could just let go of my shyness and ask somebody over for dinner - hang the bowls.

Come to think of it, I should have invited someone over a long time ago.

copyright 2007, Michelle Lynne Goodfellow