Some people like modern homes – grey cabinets and white walls, sleek furniture and little to no knick-knacks on the floating black shelves. Others prefer a beach-style home with turquoise, orange and yellow furnishings.

Others, like me, are what I’d describe as clutter decorators. Picture throw pillows, rugs, pictures on coffee tables, knitted blankets draped on the backs of overstuffed couches and walls painted in warm shades.

Clutter is comforting to me. I’m surrounded by “stuff.” Nothing’s expensive. In fact, most of the items wouldn’t fetch more than two bucks at a garage sale.

But they mean something to me and remind me of a special time or of the special people in my life.

There’s small frames containing pictures of my sons, my mom, sisters, nieces and nephews and small gifts from friends and family. I look at each one and remember when they gave them to me, and that memory makes me smile.

There’s a small photo of my dad with his three daughters, taken just months before he passed away. Although I think of my dad often, that picture reminds me how much he loved his girls.

Bookshelves hold my favorite books – most of the Stephen King novels, novels signed by James Lee Burke and a few precious books written by Pat Conroy.

I’ll actually take one off the shelf and re-read passages from time to time. Those books are familiar friends that keep me company on rainy nights.

My desk is an organized study in chaos. Notebooks are stacked next to each other and there’s quite a few because each one is for something different. One for trip ideas, one for my many failed diets and one filled with self-loathing entries.

There’s Post-It notes on every shelf – passwords and phone numbers I want to keep handy – and a special saying my brother wrote – “Don’t forget the sun is shining just because you’re in a tunnel at the moment.”

I’m also a self-admitted pen-a-holic. I have a variety of great pens in coffee cups and holders around my desk. There’s also a wicker box with scratch paper for quick notes I write to myself.

In our house, I’m the only clutter kook. I looked at the nightstands in our bedroom, and my husband’s has a lamp and two small books on it. They aren’t there for show – they hold down his phone cord so it doesn’t slip behind the furniture.

My nightstand has a Kindle, six paperbacks I’ve promised myself I’ll read, a back scratcher, a clock radio, lamp and an extra pair of reading glasses.

Instead of apologizing for the clutter, I’m going to embrace it and hope my way catches on as a new trend.

No longer should we clutterers apologize for the stacks of blankets in the corner or a curio cabinet filled with Precious Moments figurines.

We’ll no longer apologize for our rock collection – mine is in the family room – or bowls of Mardi Gras beads we snagged at a parade. We clutter because the clutter gives us joy.

I can hear people clucking their tongue and see them waving their finger at me – shameless, materialistic me. There’s actually a 12-step group, “Clutterers Anonymous.” But we’re not hoarders – those people need serious mental therapy – we simply like having familiar things around us.

In reality, we’re carrying out a positive service to the world.

We keep the landfills clear because all this stuff is in our houses, not the trash.

We help the economy. We’re the reason manufacturers make tiny spoons from every state, keychains with people’s names and cowboy salt-and-pepper shakers.

Cotton manufacturers love us because one can never have too many holiday throw pillows or shirts proclaiming “Mom and dad went on vacation and all I got was this shirt.”

For antique dealers, we are their bread and butter. Not only do we furnish them with things to sell, we buy most of that stuff back.

It’s time to accept a new mantra – Accept the Clutter.

Maybe I can get a pillow with that embroidered on it. It’ll fit right in with the other five pillows on that chair in the living room.

 

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.