Clutter Madness In Most Cases, Having Too Much Doesn’T Quite Add Up

Shoes: So many cluttered the floor of the back closet that he could no longer find his own in the mess.

On most days, he pulled all the shoes out, selected his two, then left them there in a pile, hoping his family would get the hint. Instead, whoever got home first just shoved the shoes back into the closet, tossing their own on top.

The shoes annoyed him, on top of all the other annoyances in his life.

Finally, he staged a shoe showdown.

While his wife and three kids were out shopping, he emptied that back closet of its shoes. He emptied the front closet, too. He hauled a plastic laundry basket upstairs and invaded the privacy of his children’s closets, carrying down their shoes.

Then he lined up the shoes, starting at the back door of the back porch.

Two-by-two he set them marching, across the porch threshold, down the hall, into the kitchen, the breakfast nook, the dining room and finally into a circle in the living room: gym shoes, soccer shoes, dress shoes, prom shoes, work shoes, summer shoes, winter shoes, everything-in-between shoes.

He counted 85 pairs.

When his family arrived home to confront their shoes they were, well, surprised.

They rolled their eyes.

They protested that every shoe was necessary, even the torn-up ones they might someday use to help Dad in the garden.

But they couldn’t hold out. Their shoes shamed them.

He carried a big cardboard box as each child - 13, 16 and 18 - paced the line, pointing and deciding “Yes, no, no, no, yes, no…” His wife did the same and so did he.

Three pairs belonged to a neighbor kid. Ten were too nasty even to donate.

It didn’t take long to pare their pairs by more than half.

Hearing this story, I asked a few friends to count their shoes. Most ignored my request or refused outright.

I don’t blame them. Counting is painful. It reveals us for who we are.

I am too afraid, for example, to count my shoes, but I counted my place mats: 40, in 9 different styles. Tablecloths: Eight. Wine glasses: 27.

Mind you, most nights we eat alone.

My stepdaughter and her new husband were inspired to count just about everything. Between them they own 14 jackets (most hers) and 10 sets of bath towels.

“The biggest surprise,” she said, “was that we have 18 coffee mugs in the cabinet that we keep handy to use - and another 23 in a box in the basement!”

They resolved to get rid of at least half.

A buddy counted 48 pairs of shoes between him and his wife. He was aghast. Noticing their multiple pairs of bicycling shoes, he decided to count their bikes: Nine! Plus one that’s in pieces.

Counting anything - whether your shoes or the cigarettes you smoke in one day - simply forces you to pay attention. Once you pay attention, you’re smarter. You can confront yourself honestly and begin to change.

You might hesitate to buy more. You might give some away. You might explore what compels you to accumulate.

And you can begin to challenge those sneaky, dangerous words: “Maybe someday…” Maybe someday you’ll have 27 guests who want wine. Maybe someday you’ll buy a dress to match those old hot-pink prom shoes.

Maybe someday. Or maybe not.