Space: The Frustrating Frontier

Frustration (Merriam Webster on-line definition): a deep chronic sense or state of insecurity and dissatisfaction arising from unresolved problems or unfulfilled needs.

Frustration (Jim Jones life-at-home definition): acquired stuff > allotted space = crazed housekeeper/ stay at home dad.

If I had a dumpster out front and a blood alcohol level over the legal limit, I think that there would only be a few things in my house that wouldn't find their way out the door. Let's visualize this cleaning action in terms of reality-tv elimination nights.

Doing this Survivor style:
Clyde, most beloved stuffed animal of all-time, you are safe. (I'd like to keep living and Emy is tall enough to reach the knives.)
Underwear and Socks, you are safe. (Do I need to say why?)
Any appliance that is still working over 80%, you are safe. (There are so few of them left anyway.)
The rest of you I will see at Tribal Council!

Doing this Apprentice Style:
Clothes that no longer fit, assorted "I can't believe we kept this" hidden in closets, under beds, in plastic bags, and in the garage: You're Fired!
And since this is a double elimination night: unused toys, overstocked scrapbooking and art supplies, and anything I just don't like anymore, You're Fired too!

The kids and I recently talked about what it means when someone is remodeling their home and that got me thinking about all the junk we've accumulated over time. I don't remember who said that if you haven't used something in over a year then go ahead and get rid of it, but that person sounds like a genius to me. We have more useless treasures than anyone I know who doesn't also have a basement, and the temptation to get rid of dust covered items, of all sizes, is overwhelming. We're basically having to look where we step in fear of tripping over something; that's not good no matter where you are.

To show you what how frustrated this mess is to me, let me say it this way: if taking unhindered spring cleaning to a whole new level meant that I could see my den floor again, I'd be doing the happy dance until I got blisters.

The more-than-obvious elephant in the room that is still waiting for me to address is this: why don't I just shut up and clean? Three answers:
My wife.
My kids.
My fear of certain short females (aka: my wife and kids).

These ladies are the love and light of my life but are also as hard headed as it gets. They each possess an incredibly stubborn "I'm gonna keep this" streak and an immediate line of sight to my crotch; where instinctively as females, they know how to cripple men. I'd have a fighter's chance to achieve a partial victory if one of them chose to part with some stuff, but hoarding is genetically encoded in their DNA and past attempts, by me, to get them to cooperate never ended well. There might not be bloodshed but an ocean of tears is guaranteed, and I'm squeezably soft when that happens. My desire for their happiness always trumps my own. It's my Achilles in case you didn't know.

My sad truth is this: It's almost better to personally live in frustration of the mess than it is to deal with an out-pour of emotion, none of which would benefit my health or safety. Perhaps I could shift the paradigm and all I would need to do is put in ear plugs and deal with the inevitable fall out. Once I figure out which one of these scenarios is going to happen, I'll just pray for enlightenment from the almighty that I've made the correct decision. I'll also book a hotel room for one just to be on the safe side.

If frustration is synonymous with aggravation, exasperation, annoyance, botheration, and vexation, consider me aggravated, exasperated, annoyed, bothered, and vexed (though I doubt I'd really use the word "vexed" in a real conversation) with the state of my home and the tons of stuff therein. The carrying capacity of our house is decreasing with the physical mass of the numerous "future donations and garbage contributions" that are currently here despite my desire to see them go. Maybe a garage sale is what my family needs to do to lighten the frustration I'm having.

Anyone need car seats, jackets, comforters, blankets, furniture, beds, cups, knives, books, shoes, lamps, baby toys, toddler toys, after toddler toys, stuffed animals, trains, baby clothes, strollers, tables, videos, games, video games, televisions, coloring books, a thousand markers and crayons, etc., etc., etc,?

I'm going insane.