Just lugged a metric fuckton of crap down to the bins. I feel more than a little guilty about this because most of it was recyclable and/or reusable crap - margarine tubs that could have been washed for dogtreat storage, glass bottles and jars that should have been washed for jam making or the recycle bin.

The trouble is, this ever-increasing pile of Things I Fully Intended To Get Around To Washing has been sitting there - and increasing - for years now. It's in my mental queue of shit that needs done, sure, but there's always something ahead of it (like washing up the things I need right now to eat off or cook with) and the bigger the pile gets, the less likely it is to ever be done, and... you know how it goes, right? Please say it's not just me.

Well, sometimes being a slob with a limited spoon supply (literally and figuratively) means having to make hard decisions. Today is the first day since Tuesday I've had enough energy to do anything more than take the dogs out to pee and walk myself to the bathroom and back as few times as I can get away with. So I got a big black binbag and filled it with every single sticky, mould-lined jam jar and greasy rancid plastic container I could find - and I do mean filled. And I dropped the entire lot into the wheelie bin with a resounding crash and a huge sense of liberation.

It's nearly nothing, on the scale of the crawling chaos that is my kitchen and my life, and this small symbolic act may have used up the whole of my day's energy ration. My list of things I wanted to get done today is still exponentially larger than the things I can actually manage. But I still feel a lot better for it, and I have no regrets.

From: [identity profile] disorderly-mind.livejournal.com


I totally wish I was there to help you. But since I can't, I'll let you in on a little secret: as much as I wish I could wash and recycle and reuse every item in every hoarders house I work in, I can't. A lot of it winds up in the bin. It kills me and I often consider packing those things into a separate bag to take home and do in my own kitchen, but.. Yeah, probably not a smart idea. So it all goes into the bin.

The first two places I tackle in any heavy-duty home are the kitchen and bathroom. The first because counter space is valuable when it comes to cleaning the rest of the rooms; the second because I have to have somewhere to pee, and I normally can't do it in the toilet's original condition. Plus they're small rooms that can reveal an immediate impact and provide an instantaneous sense of success in the face of an otherwise overwhelming task.
ext_15855: (Farscape: I Don't Even)

From: [identity profile] lizblackdog.livejournal.com


Yeah, it was the counter space issue that finally prompted me to do something about it today. When it gets so that you can't move shit out of the way to do things because there's more shit in every bit of available space, something has to give.

My father, from whom I inherited my slobbishness (the hoarding gene is maternal) gave me the most useful household tip of all time - clean as you go. It may not be energy-efficient or water-saving, but sometimes it's the only thing between you and a sinkful of slimy dishes that have begun to smell. It applies to recycling too, and I've learned that it's the only way glass and cans are ever going to get recycled in my house.

From: [identity profile] yesididit.livejournal.com


i just switched to disposable plates and bowls and silverware because i was having too much anxiety about washing the damn dishes. i try to be environmentally conscious and recycle and reuse, and i'm fully aware of how wasteful it is to keep throwing away plastic silverware and paper plates and bowls. but you know what? i FEEL better. perhaps a bit guilty yes, but my anxiety over the damn dishes needing to be washed is much better because theres so much less dishes to wash!

and that, to me, is priceless. and realizing that lessens the guilt over being wasteful.

some days all you can do is what you CAN do, and the rest you have to let go of.

From: [identity profile] aheadsuretospin.livejournal.com


some days all you can do is what you CAN do, and the rest you have to let go of.

I agree with this.
ext_15855: (Default)

From: [identity profile] lizblackdog.livejournal.com


I deal with the plates and bowls thing by only owning two of each, so I can't build up a big collection of dirty ones no matter how hard I try. Plus I reuse them without washing a lot 'cause I'm a slob and eating off my own dirty plates isn't gross like eating off someone else's would be - well, in my head, at least.

And yes, I know how that is. There's always going to be a huge gap between what one feels one should do and what one can actually accomplish, and it doesn't help anything to beat yourself up over it.


From: [identity profile] aheadsuretospin.livejournal.com


We got that way. We did what you did... we put most of the extra stuff in plastic storage bins so it wasn't there to use. Both of us hate dishes and avoid them. It quickly turned into a "well... we have nothing left to use, we've been eating fast food for a week... might as well do some dishes." When it was all done(the packing and such) we ended up with a plate, bowl, glass, and set of silverware each. We had minimal pans(a small and large sauce pan, a small and a large frying pan), then minimal cooking utensils.

ext_33729: Full-face head shot of my beautiful, beautiful Tink, who is a fawn Doberman. (Default)

From: [identity profile] slave2tehtink.livejournal.com


Fuck the guilt. There comes a time when you have to ask yourself not "What *can* I do with this?" but "What am I *actually* *going* to do with this?" and when the answer is "I'm going to set it on the counter and it's going to grow science experiments" then, well, throw them out as they empty. Seriously. Spoons are precious, spend them on the important things.

Like loving up Spike and Squish for me.
ext_15855: (Default)

From: [identity profile] lizblackdog.livejournal.com


I've just spent twenty minutes brushing and loving on Spike - I didn't mention you 'cause I didn't read this comment till after, but it counts, right?

and yeah, it's true. I do recycle a lot, mind you, but it's only ever going to work if I wash things the moment they're empty.
ext_15855: (Default)

From: [identity profile] lizblackdog.livejournal.com


also Spike would like you to know he is having a bad day, because everyone in the neighbourhood's pre-empting Halloween/Guy Fawkes and letting off fireworks tonight.

And I would like you to know that he'd be MUCH unhappier if I didn't have melatonin for him. Love you <3

From: [identity profile] mcsassypants.livejournal.com


I'm proud of you! I really am! Were I remotely close by, I'd come over and help if you ever needed it.

And to make you feel better, I still have boxes filled with junk mail that I fully intend to get around to shredding one of these days. These boxes have followed me through three different residences.
In my defense, however, much of it is because Ry keeps hiding the shredder...
taichara: (Azul -- devioussmile)

From: [personal profile] taichara


Dude, if you could only see our closet of bottles X3

From: [identity profile] ghost07.livejournal.com


With me, it's catalogues. I hate to throw them away, and I have them stacked up all over the place.

I FINally made myself throw away the dishes they bring my meals-on-wheels in. They are really nice, black plastic re-usable microwave-safe dishes, but I ended up with so many of thm! I still feel guilty for tossing them out.

From: [identity profile] randomyst.livejournal.com


Well, I will applaud your efforts regardless of how you feel about them. :D

From: [identity profile] crepedelbebe.livejournal.com


It's not just you. In fact, reading this entry brought me an enormous feeling of relief, because I've been torturing myself with the masses of unsorted recycling riding around in the back of my car and cluttering up my basement for literally weeks now, yet I can't find the energy to deal with it.

It's only lately I've become determined to give myself less of a hard time over this sort of thing.
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