This week's junk love is a bit late, but the Blackbird girls have been ridiculously busy. Were we out hunting good junk? No. Were we soaking up sun? No. Were we exploring foreign locales? Nope. We were cleaning our house. For days. And days. I think I pulled something. Now I need an excuse to not be an adult for a while (although I did go to work today, like a good girl).
In our defense, we had walkable pathways to all of the rooms. It was just cluttered. And dusty. We have been so busy over the last two months, certain things dropped right to the bottom of the to-do list, like reorganizing the Tupperware cabinet so that it will all fit and not cause an avalanche. What we ended up with was a towering pile of clean Tupperware on the kitchen table. (We have A LOT of Tupperware.) It took both of us to get it all back in the cabinet again.
As for the clutter, it wasn't anywhere near Hoarders-worthy. We just regressed to that blissful moment of childhood, when your mom says "Pick up your toys!", and you just pretend you didn't hear her. We have spent two months not picking up our toys, which meant that newly acquired junk was deposited on whichever piece of furniture, empty-ish box, or unused corner was closest. We also had multiple projects in progress, with components and supplies ending up in the weirdest places (like the bathroom counter).
And, to be honest, we still had some holiday decorations that needed to be put up. I will not elaborate, but it took several hours to do this. Let us never speak of this again.
So, at times like this, when one is faced with the dual tasks of finding places for junk and cleaning the dust off of (and underneath) it, one might find oneself pondering the nature of junk love. One might even ask, silently, of course, "Do I love this thing enough to clean it and find a place for it after so many days of cleaning and placing junk? Do I even want to look at this thing ever again?" It is a good time to evaluate, and to purge. Theoretically. Did we purge? Of course not. In the Blackbird house, rediscovering junk, still in the bag, from a shopping trip that took place months ago gives a buzz almost as good as the original meeting in a crowded thrift store. It's like a first kiss all over again. (And again, and again--we rediscovered a lot of forgotten junk.)
It was a hard, terrible, mind-numbing amount of work, but now the house is magazine-worthy and it makes us feel good. I'm glad it happened, and I never want to do it again. We now proceed to a very un-adult like break in which we will consume many pizzas and watch movies and stay up way past our bedtime.