Why I Refuse to Watch ‘Tidying Up’
Everyone is watching this show and learning about the “KonMari Method” of housecleaning and I’m not having it.
I will make an honest confession. I don’t know the first thing about the show. I may be completely full of hot air here.
What I do know is that I don’t need someone in my life reminding me how little of my crap I have together, let alone how much of it I need to throw out.
There is a lot of pressure in my life and I don’t need anymore. I work two jobs and I’m a single mom.
Merely existing is enough to make me want to rip out my hair or at the very least acquire a pretty solid drinking problem.
I feel like every day we have one more person that sets the standard that we all feel like we need to live up to. Especially as women. Of all of the articles and all of the reviews and all the tweets and all the Facebook posts that I have seen about the show, not a single one has been by a man. I think there’s a reason for that. Because men are like honey badger. They don’t give a shit.
Men inherently don’t buy a bunch of crap. Do you know why? Because not a damn soul is telling them that they need a bunch of crap. But women? That’s a whole other ball of wax.
We are told we need all the crap. And then were told we have to get rid of the crap. It’s a vicious cycle.
You want me to prove this to you? I’d be willing to make a small wager that many of the same women that are watching this show have also watched a YouTube tutorial on how to perfectly apply contouring makeup to make their skin look flawless. I’ve seen these videos. I do not understand this sorcery nor why I would need 19 different makeup products to achieve it.
My tidying method would be simple. Stop giving a crap. Chuck all of those 19 beauty products into the trash, slap on some blush and some mascara and call it a day. Why? Because that’s goddamn good enough.
I’m going to create my own cleaning show for the rest of us. It’s going to be 15 minutes long and I’m going to demonstrate how to throw all of your shit in a spare closet and pray to God that no one opens it. Done.
Because that’s what a vast majority of us to do and I don’t need a smiling woman on my television telling me that I’m less of a person because that’s how I do it. I keep it real.
I am aware that my house is a case study in keeping seven pounds of shit in a five pound bag. I am incredibly tired. I got a solid eight hours of sleep last night and I want another eight more.
I’m not watching for the same reason I quit watching Martha Stewart. I don’t need tips on how to create amazing “tablescapes” for my weekday dinners. For me, the most effective method of creating a tablescape is shoving all of the mail that’s accumulated that I have not opened yet to one side of my dining room table and sitting down with a plate. Viola! Dinner is served.
Right now, I’m solidly working on getting a sense of accomplishment from doing everyday things that make me feel like an adult. Like putting pants on.
Now, I like a clean house. I love my house and it makes me super happy when I can look around and it looks pretty and comfortable. Most of the time I just want to ignore the fact that I have dishes that are soaking in the sink and read a damn book. Because my brain hurts.
I don’t care what the correct and most effective way is to fold a t-shirt. I have a system that works just fine. Sure, it looks a lot like never removing the shirts from the dryer and fluffing and refluffing them until there are no shirts left in there. I call it the “VanTorre Method.” It’s not making me unhappy. Let me have my ignorant bliss.
Real life is messy. And I have a ton of real life happening all over the place, including in my house.
So here’s to all of you that can’t find your other shoe and are doing the best you can. I congratulate you for wearing pants today. You go on living your messy life because it’s okay.
*If this one hit you, please feel free to make yourself feel better about your life by reading how messy mine is: