Sure, I could jack up the heat and run up an enormous bill.
Or I could leave the thermostat set at a balmy 62 degrees and actually see my breath in the living room. (Funny the first time, but after that? Not so much.)
I could also go someplace warm but, eventually, I'd still have to come home. And that would bring me right back to where and how I am now. Sitting on my office floor, chattering and awaiting the moment my 15-year-old wakes up, walks in and demands to know why I didn't get him up for school. That would be, of course, because once again, there is no school.
Forget fussing with the thermostat, the fireplace or bundling up like that poor kid in A Christmas Story. I stay warm and beat the cold by de-cluttering.
Meet one of my new best friends.
This is my new shredder. I love this thing. See that pile of papers and checks? It's the last of the DRAWERS FULL I had in my office. You start shredding and I promise, it's like eating potato chips (only much healthier). You can't stop at one piece of paper. I plug this sucker in, start feeding it and I don't care how cold it is, I immediately start to warm up.
I love these things, too.
Once I'm warmed up from shredding, I move on to other places in the house that need to be attacked.
Now you might be wondering how I know which spots to hit, so I'll tell you: Clutter speaks to me. It calls me, taunts me, dares me to do something about it. I hate clutter and clutter hates me. In my house, in any house, that's right, even your house. I won't touch your stuff without your permission, of course. But trust me, that heaping mound of dust and dead bug-encrusted "I'm going to do something with these someday, I swear" papers piled under your bedroom window? You know, the pile that's been there so long you put a houseplant on it? That pile wants nothing more than for me to leave, to take my "Yeah, that's a sweet drawing your 3-year-old nephew did, but since he's 27 now and you still haven't framed it, can we stop pretending, take a picture of it and run it through the shredder?" attitude and go.
The kid in The Sixth Sense saw dead people. I see bursting cupboards and closets and file cabinets. With my eyes closed. Oh yeah. It makes me hot. Take that, oil company!
Just the other day, I spent six hours in my basement. I made three piles. "Trash," "Keep" and "Give Away." I only wish I'd taken "before" pictures. All the scary stuffed deer, turkeys and foxes flopped all over the floor went into storage. (I know, I know, but they're my husband's, so I couldn't throw them out.) I wore rubber gloves and closed my eyes and still I screamed when I touched them. Here they are in their new digs...
And yes, I screamed when I took these pictures, too.
When I was all done I had four huge bags of trash, three plastic containers filled with only the most important things to keep (including my man's stuffed turkey, whose head popped off when I was moving it, with my eyes closed of course resulting in my walking into a wall), and a few items to give away. I put these suckers up on Facebook and they were gone in no time flat.
Oh, and I was down to a tank top, a pair of jeans and sneakers, and I was covered in sweat. Dust and mega amounts of other grossness too, but still. Sweat. I kept the disgusting stuffed animals and I saved money on heat. (Looks like somebody's earned a spending spree at DSW, right darlin'?)
Cleaning, organizing, de-cluttering. It's my #1 way to stay warm this winter. In fact, I'm off to attack another cabinet now. But first, I need to know: Do you do this too? How are you staying warm? And does anyone want to come here and deal with the 15-year-old who just walked into my office in his boxers demanding breakfast?
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