Minimalist vs Maximalist

I am always up for trying new tricks and tips to achieve organization Nirvana. To be clear: I have never come close. At best, I live in organizational topsy turvyness: most of my life is scattered about, yet unnecessary things are over-organized: makeup, stationery, stickers (yes, by type and by preference; if you ever get a bland smiley face sticker from me it is *not* a compliment, it means you are in the bottom tier sticker wise; either that or my supply is low). But generally speaking, I am organizational chaos wrapped up in good intentions. If you want to make big $$$ on Let’s Make A Deal, take me along because my purse is prepared for every eventuality, provided I can dump it out on a card table and rifle through all of it, up to and including birthday candles, in case of an unexpected celebration. I also have a one-use-only rain bonnet that is so adorably packaged I have never used it and am reasonably certain it would fall apart in thousands of plastic shreds the second I ejected it from it’s packaging.

**Digression:

***I have never, though, lost my social security card and that is for one reason and one reason only. The reason is Marsha. The day she handed it over to me “for keeps”, she looked at me penetratingly and said, “if you ever lose this, your life will be disrupted forever and you may never get it back again, EVERRRRR!!!”. I think she meant the card, not my life but it startled me enough that I have held onto that card, despite spilling coffee on it once.

**Digression over

I went through a period where either I thought, someone told me or was heavily influenced by Pinterest, that I should become “minimalist”. This is the opposite of who I am, in every sense of the word: I am a maximalist in all the possible ways, except for excessive Knick Knacks. They bother me.

I started by emptying my entire closet onto my bed. I was filled with enthusiasm, piling and humming along. I went so far as to add shoes, accessories, ALL OF IT. I think I was supposed to do a little at a time but I don’t operate that way. And then I looked at the heap and was naturally overwhelmed. I lived in a studio apartment at the time. Do you know what a studio apartment does not have? A spare bed. Instead of tackling it as one should do, I slept on my couch for a month and dressed out of my closet-bed for a month also.

It worked in the end, though – I finally had ENOUGH and bagged 97% of it and donated. Surprisingly, I only missed 3 things: that one good dress, my favorite jeans and that blue dressy t shirt I paid full price for. I had a sour taste in my mouth about it for months (and a sore back from sleeping on the couch) but recovered. Eventually.

Once I got over the closet incident, I decided to try minimalist life again – but on a smaller scale. I minimalized my key ring. In addition to having keys to every apartment I ever rented (goodbye security deposits), classroom keys, mystery keys, mailbox keys, car key and alarm fob, they were all on a heavy, dangly, clunky, clanky key chain. I just know it must have weighed in at over 5 lbs – not a featherweight boxer by any means.

I decided I would have door key, car key and mailbox key only and the alarm fob would live in my purse. I was feeling extra extra extra minimalist and repurposey that day, so I opted for a paper clip as a key chain. Read those last two words again. And again. Paper.Clip.

You don’t have to tell me why that was a terrible idea because I lived that failure.

That very night, I met some friends for Tex Mex. We ate, had fun. We were all leaving and I needed to use the restroom. “Go ahead” I said. “I’m fine”. Little did I know that I was *not* fine.

They left. I walked to my car, pulled out the paper clip key chain. Guess how many keys were on the paper clip?

0. Z-E-R-0. As in none, not even the worthless mailbox key. What was stuck to the paper clip was a receipt and wow, did that p*ss me right off.

I did have my alarm fob, though. Naturally I walked to my car, unlocked it, got behind the wheel and said a lot of bad words. I flung the paper clip on the ground. Then I went back inside the restaurant and explained my plight.

The restaurant also had a bar. It closed at TWO AM. At 2:15 (when the lights came back up), my keys were found behind the bar.

I know exactly why they were there. We had met in the bar and I am positive I tossed my paper clip key chain on the bar when I sat down. And the paper clip key chain laughed and threw my keys to separate corners behind the bar.

The bartender asked me how my keys had become scattered. Wearily, I told him about the paper clip and said, “I’m becoming minimalist”. He blinked. I blinked back.

I could tell he wanted to laugh but was holding it in. He was vibrating with the urge to hahahahahahahaha at me.

He didn’t, though. He pulled out his key chain and took off one of those round key chains thingies that are impossible to get open without a screwdriver or someone else to do it for you. He put my keys on it and said, “this should help”. And it did help. Thank you, Scott The Bartender, wherever you are. I hope you had a good, hard laugh after I left.

The End.