Simple

This summer I drank deeply from the nectar of simplification. Due to life's circumstances, my family and my husband's family have been involved in various stages of cleaning, sorting and dumping the detritus of others. Such activity gave me pause and was the impetus for evaluating my own shelves, closets and drawers. I am a tosser by nature and my sentimental muscle has always been willing to let go. That being said, I still managed to accumulate more stuff than I really need. Boxes of "treasures" that have not been looked at in years taunted me with their excess and mystery. Ziploc bags of cords, adapters and unidentified electronic gizmos begged for usage or death. Drawers of sad little items waited to be claimed or called into action.

Here are a few of my simplification stats so far.

400 pounds (not a typo, folks) of treasure filled boxes were sent to my daughter across the country. Little Pooky, the well-loved stuffed bear, clearly belongs in her house, not in my basement. The Anne of Green Gables series we read together also needed to be in the hands that held them the first time around.

10 trips to Goodwill with goodie-laden boxes. Dishes, knick-knacks, clothes, blankets, pans, sheets and shoes continued their journey of usefulness. The gentlemen who always assist me at the drop-off station knew my vehicle well.

4 bookshelves are sporting newly cleared looks. Many books are now nestled in with new friends at Goodwill or resting in library heaven. Sorting books was a bit painful for me but I saved enough of them to keep me company until the itch to toss needs to be scratched again.

12 weeks of bulging trash cans for the dump truck drivers. I am sure they are waiting for the "For Sale" sign to pop up on my lawn. Surely, someone who throws away high school yearbooks is preparing for a move to lands afar.  Sorry, Mr. Trashman, I am hunkered down for the long haul.

Probably the best advice for keeping things simple came from a service repairman. My dryer went on strike just before back-to-school week and a service call was necessary. I paced the floor while I listened to the technician trying to wrestle the dryer into submission. I added up the minutes times the dollars for a new machine in the event the prognosis was terminal. Finally, I heard a call, "Ma'am, can you come here a minute?" My mind conjured up the worst as I approached the ailing machine. The technician handed me a small fuse and said, "It was just a blown thermal fuse. An easy fix and it's all taken care of."

I sighed with relief and thanked him for his time and help. As I was paying the bill, he continued to impart laundry machine wisdom.

"You know, most folks go through 2-3 washers for every dryer. Washers have water pumps, detergent dispensers, drain hoses, agitators and so forth. Lots of things to go wrong. But a dryer, it's a simple machine with two main functions, tumble clothes and add heat. Not too complicated."

I handed him the check and as he left my driveway, I realized I want to be a dryer, not a washing machine. When life's curveballs come my way, I prefer not to have a lot of stuff around me that needs to be cleaned, organized and moved around.

Tumble and heat. That should be enough.