I’m a woman on a mission. Every free Saturday this fall and winter – which only amounts to about three, maybe four – have been and will continue to be dedicated to decluttering.

My motivation?

The possibility of a move in the next two or three years. Possibility is the key word here. Nothing is for sure. But if we do move, the prospect of packing everything we’ve squirreled away since we moved into this house in June of 1991 has me scared spitless. So I’m on a mission to sort, stow, or throw the contents of every closet, dresser, and cupboard we have.

And we have plenty.

In November and December, I attacked the coat closet, the broom closet, our bedroom closet, my dresser and night stand, and the closets and dressers in both the kids’ old bedrooms. (Those weren’t a really big job because the kids had already hauled away much of their stuff.) Needless to say, the garbage men, the staff at Good Will, and I are tight friends these days.

Real tight.

This weekend, we got a whole lot tighter. It started innocently enough when I decided to sort through and get rid of extra Christmas ornaments before taking down decorations. Since Hiram had all the Christmas bins and boxes out of the attic, I decided this was also a good time to go through what was left of the Allen memorabilia (hauled out of the attic a couple weeks ago) he and his wife sorted through while they were here over New Year’s. Once that was done, I was overcome by the urge to purge our dark, musty attic of the dozens of cardboard boxes and packing pillows stored there…in case they were ever needed. That urge resulted in a heap of boxes destined for the recycling bin, and several other small boxes just the right size for packing and hauling away Hiram’s old nursing books stored in the upstairs hall bookcase.

With Hiram’s permission, of course.

By the end of the afternoon, the Christmas decorations were neatly stowed on the attic shelves – with room to spare. The upstairs hall bookcase had two empty shelves. Good Will was the grateful recipient of five cartons (maybe more) of really good stuff. Our garbage cans were overflowing. The recycling bin was stacked with card board boxes broken down and scrunched together.

Life was good.

Until I unpacked the forgotten cooler which my brother had put in the trunk of the car last Tuesday. It contained several dishes I’d forgotten there after New Year’s, my pie carriers, and about a ream of paper towels wrapped around…more clutter. Two figurines Mom bought at a Home Interiors party in the late 70s or early 80s.

Grrrr.

The figurines are sitting on the dining room table awaiting execution. They’ll be buried alive in a box destined for the Good Will, wrapped in Hiram’s long underwear, since the elastic in the waistband is shot. If there’s a box to pack them in.

Ahh, the dark side of decluttering rears its ugly head.