Nina In New York: Tidying Up Really Is Life-Changing Magic

A lighthearted look at news, events, culture and everyday life in New York. The opinions expressed are solely those of the writer.
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By Nina Pajak

Since moving out of Manhattan to sunny, verdant Queens, my family has had the benefit of a lot more living space. Naturally, in accordance with the laws of human nature and my husband's and my genetic lineage, we've taken the time over the last three years to properly appreciate said space: by filling it to the very brim with a whole lotta crap. Everywhere I turn, I am faced with a pile of probably garbage which we can seem neither to throw nor put away. Our shelves are a jumble of unrelated tchotchkes, stacks of paperwork we're unsure how to file, and electronics awaiting repair. Visitors assure me our place appears neat and tidy to them, but I know better. It's a clever optical illusion: we simply have no furniture in order to accommodate our daughter's unwieldy collection of blocks, dolls, dress-up items, and innumerable tiny plastic jibberjammers.

So when various friends began foaming at the mouth and prattling on and on about Marie Kondo's cultish book, The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up, I obviously wanted nothing to do with it.

"Awesome, wow," I'd intone, only half-listening to their feverish accounts of how they'd disposed of everything which did not "bring them joy." Feh. How can a sweater bring me joy? How can I possibly judge my possessions by a measure of emotion as opposed to practicality or usefulness?

The answer, as it turns out, is OH MY GOD SO EASILY. After reaching a breaking point with our clutter, I finally gave into the peer pressure and began asking my t-shirts what they'd done for me lately. As it turns out, not much! Twenty-four hours and six garbage bags full of clothing later, I am a human tornado laying waste to all that is in my path. I stayed up until two in the morning on Sunday folding clothes according to the Kondo method, which actually isn't such a bad Saturday night for me. All I can think about is getting rid of more things, moving onto more rooms and categories of junk, donating the contents of my life to some lucky charitable organizations who should probably consider giving Ms. Kondo some sort of lifetime achievement award. I must talk about it. I must convert others. No one must own a single melancholy item! Sure, my house is an insane shambles of overfilled trash bags and broken hangers, but it's a process. Oh, it's gonna be so good. Soon I will become an unrecognizable and vastly superior version of my former, hoarder self, a minimalist samurai phoenix arisen from the ashes of a thousand crappy tank tops and flip flops.

That's enough for now. I have no more time to spare. I must continue my work without further interruption. All leisure time and hours not spent engaging in basic hygiene and childcare shall henceforth be devoted to the expunging of joylessness from my home until sunshine and rainbows come shooting out of our damn windows like deadly laser beams of psychotic euphoria. I'll continue to check in on my Kondo journey as it progresses. I know you're all very excited.

Nina Pajak is a writer living with her husband, daughter and dog in Queens. Connect with Nina on Twitter!