![]() ![]() Oh, but it gets worse! She speaks to her clothing and her belongings, thanks them for their hard work, and gives them compliments and encouragement. Marie Kondo believes clothing and belongings are alive. This is helpful, because you don’t have to look at a beloved item and think, “Does this belong in the trash?” Instead, you only need to hold each individual item in your hands and ask yourself, “Does this spark joy?”Īt the beginning of the process, there were three potential hiccups I anticipated, all based in fundamental differences between myself and Marie Kondo. The secret to the KonMari Method is this: You are not deciding what to get rid of, you are only deciding what to keep. Well, as correctly as not owning elegant nightgowns would allow. While it was tempting to treat the overflowed toilet like a bad omen, I was determined to do the KonMari fully and correctly. I had marked the day on my calendar weeks earlier and protected it from any schedule conflicts with the ferocity of animal motherhood. It was an unfortunate kickoff to a cleaning event that Marie Kondo recommends you treat like a holiday. ![]() Sparing the most unfortunate details, I'll just say the evening ended with several old bath towels making brave sacrifices to sop up the water, followed by me taking three consecutive showers and not going back in the bathroom for three days due to minor PTSD. Which brings me back to the night before my KonMari, on the floor of my bathroom in my underwear, gagging as I watched paper towel after paper towel practically dissolve in murky poop water. (Seriously.) According to Kondo, the process of tidying your home with the intensity and dedication that the KonMari Method demands can actually create a “detox phenomenon” that can lead to clearer skin, weight loss, and clean-as-a-whistle bowels. In Kondo’s worldview, “When you’ve finished tidying your home, your life will change dramatically.” Your relationships will improve! Your ambition will thrive! Your career path will clear! And you will have diarrhea. I can tell myself all this, but I still don’t think Marie Kondo would keep me as a pet. Some of these multitudes are very hygenic and respectable. I’m just a gal who is hustling in New York to make it and, like Whitman, I contain multitudes. I wash my hair once a week, eat all foods straight out of their bag or container, wash my sheets approximately never, and have a text thread with myself detailing all the best public bathrooms in which to poop in Manhattan. Not only do I wear a “sloppy sweat suit” to sleep, I wear one outside quite frequently. Reading this made me feel as if I was never going to nail the KonMari Method. Thank you, I whispered, like a weirdo witch. Yet as I gently placed my beloved stripey shirt in the trash bag, I found myself involuntarily thanking it. I had neglected, mostly because it’s dumb. I was a detective in the ongoing unsolved mystery Where the fuck is my other shoe? The desk itself was piled with clutter, papers, books, and, for some reason, socks. On my desk chair-which I'd never used-was a mountain of clothes that got so big that the act of extracting a shirt from the stack toppled the entire stack like a Jenga tower. Want to know how much I paid each time I bought toilet paper from Duane Reade? That information was available in the form of thousands of receipts crammed in a shoebox. ![]() I saved every paper from every thing ever. The drawers were stuffed with balled-up clothing, the closet packed tight with hangers, and a hanging shoe rack swung by one hinge so that entire pairs of shoes tumbled to the ground with a slam. Since I moved to New York in 2013, my living space had become a prison of crap that I chronically neglected. I’ve never been able to keep my room clean for more than a day or so. Why? Because I’m a TLC camera crew away from being a hoarder. ![]()
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