I’m Gonna Konmari the Krap Outta This

Please excuse the forced alliteration. I’m bedridden, and I have lost all sense of decorum. (edited to add: i just realized the Ks might seem an homage to *that* famous repetitive K family. it is not.)

Two days ago, on the day after Christmas, instead of enjoying the dulcet tones of my children whining about their boredom in spite of having a metric tonne of shiny new toys, I fell ill with a stomach bug that rivaled any of my four bouts of hyperemesis.

It was the literal worst. Seriously. I went to the ER, and as I sat in the lobby, utilizing one of those lovely blue plastic accordion receptacles, my fingers and legs locked up. I thought I might be having a stroke, but I guess it was the result of extreme dehydration. Impressive, even for me.

So I had a night’s vacation in the observation ward. I had to leave my little baby at home for the first time overnight without me, and she was….displeased. She refused to take a bottle and slept away her stress. I also attempted to sleep away the entire incident, which wasn’t too difficult as I was given several doses of phenergan.

But after tolerating some carrots and a baked potato, I was given my freedom. I took to my bed and haven’t left since. Which is where I have been stationed for the past 27 hours or so, visually combing through every square inch of this room with the fresh eyes of a woman who has recently read the latest religious text of the organization faithful.

the life-changing magic of tidying up: the Japanese art of decluttering and organizing

I first took notice of this book on the shelves of Anthropologie, where I work a few hours per week. I was immediately attracted to the ee cummings-esque typeface, and having heard the word “konmari” tossed about, decided I would give it a quick read. After all, I’ve always been a fan of organization. When I was in high school, I actually asked for a closet organizer as a gift. That’s how much I love to organize.

Yet, I still live in a cluttered mess. Sure, a good amount of that is the fact that I have a family of 6 in a tiny home, but there must be more than that. And so I am committing to this book and this kooky Japanese lady with her weirdo methods.

Which is why as I am perched on my sick bed, impatient to kick the remnants of this nasty illness, I have mentally culled my bookshelf, my sock drawer, and the right half of the top shelf of the closet. (The left door is closed, so I can’t see what I need to ditch from that side)

Does it spark joy? If not, it’s out. Done. Gone. Kaput. Audi-5000.

My plan is to Konmari the hell out of this joint.

I’ll keep you posted. Will this be like the time I tried the Atkins diet? Hopefully not. I mean, pork rinds are straight up nasty.



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