Reclaiming Spaces

A couple of days ago I looked into that last kitchen drawer, the final frontier of unclaimed territory in the kitchen I inherited from my predecessor.

With a now-practiced hand I quickly tossed into the trash a layer of napkins, condiment packets, chop sticks and take out menus — all relics of far-away, long-closed restaurants, and the bottom layer of desiccated rubber bands, tiny screws and used carpet tacks, fragments of plastic bits, sticky twist ties, and bits of string.

I sorted the broken bits of the family silver (valuable, perhaps, enough to merit a closer look later) from the miscellaneous napkin rings, dozen bag clips, unpaired corn holders, barbecue skewers, and some whole implements that look useful even though I can’t identify them.

Finally, in the drawer’s deepest recesses I found three candle stubs.  When I finished reassembling the contents to be kept —  and by now it was no longer a mind-boggling mess threatening to escape the drawer — I set those candle stubs into crystal holders and, with a prayer to honor the memory of my predecessor, I offered thanks for having finished claiming the spaces in my kitchen as my own.

In fact, that last kitchen drawer was the last space in the whole house — barring my husband’s work areas — that I opened up and declogged of obvious trash.

There is still the garage and two deep-under-house difficult-to-access storage areas to tackle.  But I’ll take a break from physical decluttering because over the next month workers will be coming to tackle needed maintenance.

I’ll have time to tell more stories here.  That’s a happy thought.


Author: American Declutterer

I've had three careers, moved among thirteen states, and cleared four houses after loved ones moved on. Sometimes you just have to look at all the stuff and laugh. Then get back to discarding.

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