Everyone has a junk drawer, right? I remember that we even called it that when I was growing up. In need of something? Look in the junk drawer. It sometimes had magical qualities like Mary Poppins' bag -- it seemed a limitless drawer of odds, ends, tools, pens, and orphan parts of all kinds.
When I got older and lived in places of my own I gradually developed my own junk drawer. In my pursuit of controlling my environment since I cannot seem to control any other aspect of my life, I organized my junk drawer with small, plastic bins. It was still a junk drawer, but it was forced into the submission of categories -- tools (ruler, scissors, tape measure, utility knife, tiny screwdriver, etc.), adhesives (clear tape, masking tape, electrical tape, left-over velcro tabs, and that cool stuff that you can stick window stickers onto it so that the stickers cling to your car windows thereby eliminating the need for razor blades every year), stuff (buttons, last bit of yarn, a cork, a key chain that floats, etc.), and a bin of batteries. That drawer also received all weird bits and scraps that had no other home and would no longer be tolerated out in the open.
We have been in our new house for almost two years. Our Birdie arrived about four weeks after we moved into the house (and about three weeks early). We did not have time to get all parts of the house set up the way we wanted it. (No, really, I have convinced myself that three more weeks of pregnancy would have allowed us to get things set up.) And then, of course, people say that it takes a year of living someplace to figure out how you want things set up. Bird has impacted our plans by distracting us from thinking about how to organize the house and by introducing so much stuff to the house.
So, while our kitchen has developed its own kitchen-specific junk drawer, we have grown beyond junk drawers and generated a junk room -- a whole room of orphans, misfits, and stuff-in-transition. It started simply enough -- Birdie's first birthday and the impending arrival of more than thirty people for his party (we kept it small -- family only). We needed space for chairs for people and tables for food. Jumperoos, Bumbos, toys, baskets of blankets and bibs and toys were all relegated to the office. The stroller, the push car, and un-needed parts of the pack n' play were exiled to the office. Piles of mail and newspapers, school bags, work bags, extra throw pillows and a half-dead plant were thrown in for good measure.
And thus was the foundation laid for our junk room.
Now the junk room is utilized every time we get one of those phone calls -- "Hey! We're in the city. Are you guys home?" -- and need to shovel our real lives behind closed door to make it possible for guests to be comfortable and to allow us to act like we live clutter free.
Bird's second birthday is three months away. (How is that possible?) I have been successful this week in skimming off the top layer and have made discoveries such as the light fixtures we bought for the first floor bathroom. The stroller and push-car have been stored in the basement. I have not made it as far as the closet. God knows what awaits me in the closet. Items were shoved in the closet the week we moved in and have not been touched since. I imagine it will be like an archaeological dig. And a horror film. And potentially a documentary on paper hoarding.
I am hopeful that in the new year I can rid us of much paper, determine and establish a system for storing the minimal amount of paper we do need to store, and keep junk out of our office. It would be so nice to have an office again.
I will not, however, make any move to rid us of our junk drawer.
