Or none of the above.
Actually, the Ten Things Game gets instituted when the house feels as if it is closing in around us. I picked up a magazine this morning and flipped to a quote that was celebrating clutter, though the example of clutter cited in the article was a stack of books next to your bed. Wha? This person must not have children. Clutter in our house includes, but is not limited to, endless masterpieces created by the children at school and at home; stuffed dogs and cats and naked baby dolls; wooden vegetables; apple cores; "lost" toothbrushes; hair clips; endless articles of doll clothing; single socks; crayon stubs; treasures such as rocks, nails, pieces of glass, feathers, etc., etc. I even found a secret cache behind the children's poufe (large round sitting cushion) that consisted of, but was not limited to, a large hunk of stale white bread and an empty (sucked dry by the M.C.) plastic lime. (This is an aside, but I have to mention that the M.C. also painted the inside of our fridge the other day. Blue. She and I scrubbed for a while and then she sat in time out and pondered what a bad choice she had made).
So every night, Martin and I both have to find five things in the house that we will throw or give away. We put them in a pile, step back, and assess. If by chance one person really wants to keep that old picture frame that the other person chose, they may challenge the object only if they are willing to find two more things to give away as forfeit, bringing the total give-away total to eleven.Martin and I played this game so well last year that we were almost down to essentials by the time we finished. Since then, our house has been eating with a voracious appetite, and is about to burst. It's time.
A couple of our friends are joining us in this game. Last night they freed themselves from the enslavement of ten clutterous items. Do you want to join?
