| brucekluger.com |
Arrive Magazine, July-August 2004 Final Stop: Clean Sweep This spring, tidy is as tidy does. By Bruce Kluger
one thing in my house: spring cleaning. When I spring-clean, I grab Windex and sponges and head for the living room. When my wife spring-cleans, she grabs a garbage bag and heads for my closet. Not that I mind her throwing out the African dashiki I wore around campus 25 years ago. I intended to toss that one of these years.
clutter—or vice versa. This supports a theory I’ve long held: that when it comes to disposing of one’s old stuff to make room for newer, future junk, we need someone else to give us our purging orders.
pack-rats and stockpilers everywhere:
jersey features a cartoon of a man wearing beer goggles, burn it. Those old, dog- eared Playboy magazines, meanwhile, aren’t “collectibles”—they’re just old. (Rumor has it Miss May ‘68 once guest-starred on an episode of The Golden Girls.) As for that teetering stack of scratched LPs, you can dump them, too. Contrary to what you believe, you’re not the only fellow looking to unload Leonard Nimoy’s Christmas Carols on eBay. (Speaking of music, isn’t it also time to toss out that eight-track tape player, circa ‘73? Not even the Smithsonian curators kept theirs.) Women: How many pairs of shoes do you really need, Imelda? And while we’re nosing through your closet, say sayonara to little strapless number with the rose- petal embroidery. Trust me, girlfriend, it will look fabulous on someone who’s actually a size six. In fact, you may want to consider boxing up that whole secret rack of snugwear behind the sweaters and shipping it off to Goodwill. Not to be blunt, but you did buy most of those outfits the month after senior prom. Children: Let’s make this easy, kids, throw everything out. Everything. (Correction: You may keep your books. Both of them.) Bachelors: If your love life is any reflection of your decorating skills, it’s clearly been a long, lonely winter. Start by discarding all of the “artwork” currently on display, notably any item that once hung in 1) your childhood bedroom, 2) your dorm room or 3) your prison cell. (Paintings you did yourself on black velvet go first, Picasso.) As for your cinderblock-and-orange-crate “shelving,” one word of advice: Ikea. Finally, lose that sad excuse for a La-Z-Boy. Besides the fact that it stopped reclining sometime during the Reagan Administration, something green is growing out of the seat cushion, and it’s starting to smell. Business Travelers: Yes, you need receipts for your expense reports. After that, everything else goes. Included: the 6 rental car maps; 8 unused breakfast buffet coupons and ever-growing stash of little shampoo bottles. And while we’re on the subject of bathroom freebies, you can also eighty-six the mini-sewing kits, shower caps, soap samples, bath gel and assorted shoehorns. (Question: Does anyone really use a shoehorn anymore?) By the way, you may keep all the copies of Arrive that you’ve been pinching. They are—and will remain—invaluable. (Illustration by Terry Colon) |
