(really) old gatorade
I've started reading Gretchen Rubin's The Happiness Project with my book group. Rubin devotes a calendar year to focusing in on ways she can improve her level of happiness--and, by extension, her family's happiness and her ability to fully live out her life's promise. She starts by spending January focusing upon energy and organization, sensing these foundations will serve her well as she moves on to contemplate various relationships, work, leisure and so on. (I'm only on April, so much remains to be explored.) Consequently, we spent part of our time Monday discussing organization, lack thereof, the ease with which clutter can become overwhelming, and nagging tasks we would love to conquer.
My list is a long one, and like others in the group I am easily overwhelmed by long to-do lists or concerns about finding sustainable solutions. One friend shared how she had finally sorted through a sack of miscellaneous stuff dumped from various purses--and found $100 and a bunch of unused gift cards! Buoyed by stories of success, I decided this morning to tackle the bottom shelf of the pantry, which has held a box dating from the year we moved in, containing an overflowing pile of plastic store bags and sheltering goodness knows what else within and behind.
I'd love to report that I, too, found buried treasure.
In truth, my findings included way too many plastic bags... and unopened bottles of Gatorade dating from when I was pregnant with the 7-year-old and she was sucking more power than I sometimes had to give. (Resulting, among other things, in an extremely embarrassing fainting incident in Fred Meyer. Ever curious what it would take to score a free drink out of those check-out line coolers? Collapse in a heap [next to your husband, thank goodness] and just watch that merchandise fly. No, Mr. Freddy's Manager, it wasn't your fault and we don't intend to sue.)
Yes, it is totally gross that I hadn't bothered to do anything about said Gatorade in the intervening 7+ years. I share in the hopes that my poor housekeeping may assuage others' concerns about their own.
Also, fun fact to know and tell: 7-year-old grape Gatorade turns blue.
So, no treasure, but I do have a much cleaner bottom shelf. It only took about 20 minutes, and it's a useful reminder that, in the words of my grandmother, "inch by inch is a cinch." We often feel like if we don't fix everything it isn't worth fixing anything. It's the reason why we procrastinate. It's the reason why we hesitate, in work, in relationships, in household organization or in our lives of faith.
That nasty Gatorade? Poured down the drain. The overabundance of plastic sacks? Bagged and awaiting deposit in the recycling bin at the store. No treasure... but a useful reminder that doing something, no matter how small, always feels better than doing nothing.
My list is a long one, and like others in the group I am easily overwhelmed by long to-do lists or concerns about finding sustainable solutions. One friend shared how she had finally sorted through a sack of miscellaneous stuff dumped from various purses--and found $100 and a bunch of unused gift cards! Buoyed by stories of success, I decided this morning to tackle the bottom shelf of the pantry, which has held a box dating from the year we moved in, containing an overflowing pile of plastic store bags and sheltering goodness knows what else within and behind.
I'd love to report that I, too, found buried treasure.
In truth, my findings included way too many plastic bags... and unopened bottles of Gatorade dating from when I was pregnant with the 7-year-old and she was sucking more power than I sometimes had to give. (Resulting, among other things, in an extremely embarrassing fainting incident in Fred Meyer. Ever curious what it would take to score a free drink out of those check-out line coolers? Collapse in a heap [next to your husband, thank goodness] and just watch that merchandise fly. No, Mr. Freddy's Manager, it wasn't your fault and we don't intend to sue.)
Yes, it is totally gross that I hadn't bothered to do anything about said Gatorade in the intervening 7+ years. I share in the hopes that my poor housekeeping may assuage others' concerns about their own.
Also, fun fact to know and tell: 7-year-old grape Gatorade turns blue.
So, no treasure, but I do have a much cleaner bottom shelf. It only took about 20 minutes, and it's a useful reminder that, in the words of my grandmother, "inch by inch is a cinch." We often feel like if we don't fix everything it isn't worth fixing anything. It's the reason why we procrastinate. It's the reason why we hesitate, in work, in relationships, in household organization or in our lives of faith.
That nasty Gatorade? Poured down the drain. The overabundance of plastic sacks? Bagged and awaiting deposit in the recycling bin at the store. No treasure... but a useful reminder that doing something, no matter how small, always feels better than doing nothing.
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