Stuff

I love Stuff.  Books, clothes, gadgets, stationery, toys, tools, utensils, candles, plants, appliances, linen. I derive enormous pleasure from bringing home a new scented candle, a silicone trivet, a pretty and snug thermal vest, a new set of lego, a non-spill cat food bowl, a long-armed stapler (I’d yearned for one of those for as long as I can remember; I can now create perfect little booklets out of A4 paper.  I’m sure I’ll find a use for them at some point.)  Stuff is fascinating, beautiful, life-enhancing.

Stuff can also clutter up my space and eat up my time and energy.

The equilibrium I aspire to is what Abraham-Hicks refer to as “a passing parade of stuff”:  let it in, play with it, let it go.  I’ve got the first two steps sorted, but when it comes to the third I appreciate all the help I can get.  That’s where Flylady comes in.

Over the last six years Flylady (reformed SHE (“Side-Tracked Home Executive”) Marla Cilley) has been (virtually) by my side, gently reminding me that I am not behind, to clear my hotspots, that babysteps are the best way of sustaining progress,  and that anything can be accomplished 15 minutes at a time.

I fall on and off the Flylady wagon, and when I’m serenely in my wellbeing I probably don’t need her. But on days like this, I love that by the simple acts of clearing some surfaces, straightening the tablecloth and putting some junk aside for recycling, I can move up the emotional scale from overwhelmed to contented in just 15 minutes, measured to the second on my kitchen timer.