The Purge: Summer Edition
Hello friends!
Here were are, squarely in July.
I spent most of my holiday weekend—does it count as a “holiday weekend” if a) you’re not working a day job and so not technically on holiday, and b) you don’t actually celebrate? (Unless drinking whiskey while you patch a pair of cutoffs counts as celebrating. Maybe it does.) Anyhoo. I spend most of my weekend happily purging clutter from the tiny house.
A pair of dead earbuds, severed from their cord, which were lovingly nestled in a bird’s nest.
A once-prized pair of pants which had begun bagging at the knees.
An impressive collection of hotel shampoos.
&c.
Ricky was out of town so I felt gloriously uninhibited and this is what I do for fun apparently.
I think I fear clutter because I grew up with it. In my mom’s house, never my dad’s. (My dad used to deposit any personal items left in communal quarters at the bottom of the stairs, to be whisked up into my room pronto. He didn’t want to look at that shit.)
There’s a teensy bit of a hoarding tendency on my mom’s side of the family, and my stepdad had the gene, too. When he and my mom split for the final time, I helped her clean out one of their houses: a seminal experience. In addition to the boxes and boxes of Ivo’s books, which were shipped to Prague (at his expense, I wonder now?), there were towering stacks of newspapers, umpteen rusted tools, and—this is the thing that really gets me—bowls, little bowls everywhere, bowls full of pocket change and old earplugs and a thousand orphaned keys. So many keys. TO WHERE? A rusty padlock, a house in San Francisco, an apartment sold eight years back?? This is what I’m fighting every time I purge. Lord help me if I ever harbor a bowl of keys.
What am I getting at here? I guess just that I enjoy getting rid of things.
I even cleaned out the trunk of the car, unearthing and tossing a treasure trove of freebie nylon totes. As I was doing so, I found the bags of stuff I’d banished to Goodwill during my last purge, and pulled out—hooray!—a busted pair of cutoffs I had sorely missed, and a pair of Sauconys with plenty of life left in them.
Silly Laramie.
This is a strategy I recommend, if you have the trunk space. Store your to-go-to-Goodwill bags in the trunk. Say your sad goodbyes to the cutoffs, or the very excellent pants with the unconscionably baggy knees. But give yourself a few months before you make the donation.
(Keys to noplace should be tossed now.)
*****
Related: You might enjoy reading about the Purge, a Rage-Based Cleaning Method. Or this excerpt may be all you need…
Hold up an item. Does it make you feel furious and sick to your stomach? Are you angry at the person who brought it into your home and all memories associated with it? This item must be purged.
*****
Also, a new thing to do with old bananas (adapted from Extra Crispy):
Ingredients
1 very ripe banana
1 egg
2 tablespoons all-purpose flour (gluten-free works great)
1 handful of walnuts (optional)
A little butter
Directions
Beat the egg in a small bowl. Vigorously smash the banana while it’s still inside the peel, then slice it open and smush it in with the egg. Add the flour and the walnuts and whisk it all together.
Heat a cast iron pan over medium-high heat and melt a little butter in there. Pour one-third of the batter into the center of the pan, forming a circle. Cook for a few minutes, or until bubbles pop through the top and the edges brown. Flip with a spatula and cook for one or two more minutes. Repeat. (It works best to do these one at a time—the pan will be hottest at the center.)
Devour with jam or maple syrup.
*****
🍌✨
Laramie
Here were are, squarely in July.
I spent most of my holiday weekend—does it count as a “holiday weekend” if a) you’re not working a day job and so not technically on holiday, and b) you don’t actually celebrate? (Unless drinking whiskey while you patch a pair of cutoffs counts as celebrating. Maybe it does.) Anyhoo. I spend most of my weekend happily purging clutter from the tiny house.
A pair of dead earbuds, severed from their cord, which were lovingly nestled in a bird’s nest.
A once-prized pair of pants which had begun bagging at the knees.
An impressive collection of hotel shampoos.
&c.
Ricky was out of town so I felt gloriously uninhibited and this is what I do for fun apparently.
I think I fear clutter because I grew up with it. In my mom’s house, never my dad’s. (My dad used to deposit any personal items left in communal quarters at the bottom of the stairs, to be whisked up into my room pronto. He didn’t want to look at that shit.)
There’s a teensy bit of a hoarding tendency on my mom’s side of the family, and my stepdad had the gene, too. When he and my mom split for the final time, I helped her clean out one of their houses: a seminal experience. In addition to the boxes and boxes of Ivo’s books, which were shipped to Prague (at his expense, I wonder now?), there were towering stacks of newspapers, umpteen rusted tools, and—this is the thing that really gets me—bowls, little bowls everywhere, bowls full of pocket change and old earplugs and a thousand orphaned keys. So many keys. TO WHERE? A rusty padlock, a house in San Francisco, an apartment sold eight years back?? This is what I’m fighting every time I purge. Lord help me if I ever harbor a bowl of keys.
What am I getting at here? I guess just that I enjoy getting rid of things.
I even cleaned out the trunk of the car, unearthing and tossing a treasure trove of freebie nylon totes. As I was doing so, I found the bags of stuff I’d banished to Goodwill during my last purge, and pulled out—hooray!—a busted pair of cutoffs I had sorely missed, and a pair of Sauconys with plenty of life left in them.
Silly Laramie.
This is a strategy I recommend, if you have the trunk space. Store your to-go-to-Goodwill bags in the trunk. Say your sad goodbyes to the cutoffs, or the very excellent pants with the unconscionably baggy knees. But give yourself a few months before you make the donation.
(Keys to noplace should be tossed now.)
*****
Related: You might enjoy reading about the Purge, a Rage-Based Cleaning Method. Or this excerpt may be all you need…
Hold up an item. Does it make you feel furious and sick to your stomach? Are you angry at the person who brought it into your home and all memories associated with it? This item must be purged.
*****
Also, a new thing to do with old bananas (adapted from Extra Crispy):
Ingredients
1 very ripe banana
1 egg
2 tablespoons all-purpose flour (gluten-free works great)
1 handful of walnuts (optional)
A little butter
Directions
Beat the egg in a small bowl. Vigorously smash the banana while it’s still inside the peel, then slice it open and smush it in with the egg. Add the flour and the walnuts and whisk it all together.
Heat a cast iron pan over medium-high heat and melt a little butter in there. Pour one-third of the batter into the center of the pan, forming a circle. Cook for a few minutes, or until bubbles pop through the top and the edges brown. Flip with a spatula and cook for one or two more minutes. Repeat. (It works best to do these one at a time—the pan will be hottest at the center.)
Devour with jam or maple syrup.
*****
🍌✨
Laramie
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