When you get past a certain age, there are truths you come to accept. Some truths are easier than others.

I remember riding my bike around the block where we lived. Out my grandparents’ driveway to Second Street and round the corner. In the middle of that street was a set of stone stairs. I’d stop there and pretend I was resting and looking around.

What I was really doing was stopping to let my “horse,” aka my bicycle, get a drink of water and cool down. Like so many kids, I wanted to be a cowboy. In my imagination, my bike was a part-time horse.

I got a little older and realized the bike was nothing more than steel and rubber wheels. The truth is, these days, I ride my bike because my knees won’t allow me to walk around the block.

I read “Black Beauty” when I was about 10 years old and thought I knew everything about horses.

The first time I rode a horse was right after I’d finished that book. The horse didn’t realize I’d read that book because he galloped, didn’t do what I wanted him to do and tried to bite me.

I hung on for dear life on that ride, thinking this wild horse was nothing like Black Beauty. Now, the only horse I’m interested in is can the horsepower in my car get me safely over the ramps on the interstate.

For many years, I considered myself somewhat organized. But one frustrating afternoon, after looking for my car keys for an hour, I ordered Marie Kondo’s organizing book.

I had to face a bitter truth. I was surrounded by clutter everywhere I looked – letters and cards, photographs and hundreds of books.

Kondo advised only keeping things that give you joy. So I assessed.

All those pictures make me happy because they remind me of good times and celebrations.

Many of the letters are from relatives and friends who are no longer here. Seeing their handwriting reminds me of them. That gives me joy.

The mementos are either gifts from my childhood or something I picked up while traveling.

All of them bring me joy.

But I did follow one key bit of advice from Ms. Kondo. The book “The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up” did not bring me joy so I donated it and instantly felt better.

Reading a book does not make one an expert on the subject in the book nor can the content in the book motivate me to do something I really don’t want to do.

It’s even worse when I watch a YouTube video.

Cleaners visit a hoarder’s house and, with the snap of their fingers, the house is clean.

I watch that and think I can clean out our garage in a couple of hours. I’ll watch another one and believe I can rearrange my kitchen pantry.

In the time I spent watching those videos, I could’ve cleaned the garage, the kitchen and washed a few loads of clothes.

In reality, there is no need to clean out our garage because my husband is already neat and organized.

These people would probably have me throw out his collection of screws, nuts and bolts he’s collected over 40 years. Truth be told, those odd screws have come in handy quite often.

I’m not going to move the washer and dryer to clean underneath them. I’ll clean that mess up when we move.

I’m not going to take everything out of the kitchen cabinets, install rolling shelves and re-season the cast-iron pots.

I’ll keep reading the books and watching the how-to videos. The best thing they accomplish is keeping me from doing the actual work.

 

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.