A couple more baby steps

I tossed out an old whistling tea kettle that was taking up valuable real estate on the kitchen counter.   It was old, pitted, gnarled and had a calcium buildup on the inside (We had had a water softening problem that we finally shelled out almost $2K to fix.   It was causing a mineral build up on everything that hot water touched.)   I had loved this tea kettle.  It had a copper coil on the bottom to facilitate a quick boil and a nice loud whistle.   I received a replacement at Christmas and couldn't bring myself to pitch the old one.   It takes up a lot of space in the trash (we pay for trash removal by the bag) so I guess I rationalized that it was still useful.   It's not and I finally admitted that to myself.   Out it went.

I also cleared off a small table in the entry way and found a reminder to update my subscription to the local symphony, so that was a bonus.  

And yes, I put away all the remaining odds and ends that remained on the counter from yesterday... except one tiny little car that I know goes into one of the kids boardgames, I just can't remember which one.   It's still in the pocket of my jeans.

I am still reluctant to pitch any of my kids' toys.   My mother was a neat freak and I distinctly remember one time when I was a little kid, her sweeping the playroom and one of my Colorforms (remember Colorforms?) had strayed and was now being swept up into the little pile of dirt.    I saw it, scowled at her and plucked it out of the pile and put it away in the box.   I remember thinking "Geez, why are you sweeping up my toy?  Is it that hard to pluck it out and tell me to put it away?"    She was probably thinking "If you can't take care of it, out it goes", but she never articulated it.   I think it would have been better if she had, but she's always been a passive aggressive.  I also remember another time, when I was older, 8th grade when she decided all my stuffed animals were getting pitched.   I had loved those animals, played with them often and had even written stories about them.    No offer of choosing one or two to keep, just "They smell musty, out they go".  She allow me to take a picture of them.  

That picture resurfaced when she mailed a few pictures of me when I was a kid to my daughter.    My first grade school picture, my first communion picture and me surrounded by my stuffed animals.    I was annoyed that she didn't want the pictures of me anymore.    The memory of me, and how I looked as a little girl wasn't worth a few lousy square inches in a photo album?    Apparently not.   It seemed odd that she sent them to my daughter.   It's not like Mom reaches out to her all the time.  

Obviously, my mother and I are not close.   Is this whole clutter thing a bit of stupid baggage because we don't get along?   Maybe.  

So after I cleared that chunk of counter space, it was amazing how stuff kept getting set down in that spot by everyone.    A bottle, a dish towel, a plate.    I battled to keep it cleared off.   It seems nature abhors a vacuum.