Watching my past go through the shredder

I've been dreading this day.  The day of paper purging.  

I'm watching years upon years of documents chronicling my life get eaten by the shredder.  Detailed records of every purchase I ever made.  Bank statements with my maiden name.  Rent checks written out to my ex.  Overdraft notices.  Lots of overdraft notices.

Most of this past is clouded with bad memories but I still find it hard to let it go.  Every page that meets it's demise causes me to wince a little.

But I'm committing to making some changes in my life.  And this step, while seemingly insignificant and definitely not pleasurable, is vital to redefining my definition of the word "need."

Because growing up, I was surrounded by tons of "stuff."  Closets overflowing with clothes.  Garages piled with scrap lumber.  Basements with towers of plastic file boxes.  And unknowingly, I was taught to hold. on. to. everything.

But through a combination of limited financial means and a nostalgic ideology, I've managed to break the cycle.  Mostly.  I am no longer holding onto clothes that I don't wear.  Or items that I don't use.  And the objects in my home are limited to things that I really do love.  So this is the final step.

It's definitely a work in progress.  Hell, I'm a work in progress.  But hopefully this will help me to teach my daughter that life is so much more than just stuff.

Fighting the Laundry Monster

I'll be the first to admit that I'm not the best housekeeper.  My floors aren't always the cleanest.  The tub gets scrubbed when visually disgusting (sometimes).  And you could write in the dust on my dresser.  But one thing I've gotten down is fighting the laundry monster.

I used to detest doing laundry.  Even when my washer/dryer was right outside my bedroom door.  And when I finally got around to washing it, it would live in a basket indefinitely until I was in need of something to wear.  Needless to say, I was a constant frumpled mess.

Then I got married.  And my husband tried to do laundry.  He used fabric softener instead of detergent.  I knew I needed to take control.

For the past 4 years I've been in search of the secret to laundry perfection, and I think I've finally achieved it.  (If you ignore the fact that my husband wears the same pants to work several days in a row because he only has two pairs of khakis.)

Let me introduce you to the keys to laundry success!*

*Disclaimer: This is what I've determined to work for me and my family.  Obviously, this may not work for you.  Consider yourself warned.

• Segregate.  I keep multiple laundry hampers in our bedroom to sort laundry as it's used.  This allows me to quickly grab a load and throw it in the washer on my way downstairs to watch The Biggest Loser. 
• Divide and conquer.  I'm obviously not a huge fan of sorting laundry, so to make this task simpler, I wash the kid's clothes separately as opposed to putting whites with whites, etc.  When clothes are clean, I can just throw the basket in the appropriate room and hope the laundry fairy comes in the night to put them away.
• Cut to the chase.  I don't bother folding clean laundry.  Most of my clothes are hung, so why should I do double work?  If I don't have time to put everything away when it's fresh, I prioritize the hanging stuff and leave the rest for later.  No one's gonna know if you have wrinkly socks.
• Do smaller loads.  I know that seems counter-intuitive, but this really works for me.  It's much easier to tackle a small load from hamper to closet than it is to battle a mountain of clothes. 
• Wage. War. Every. Single. Day.  I know this is not what you wanted to hear.  And I'm sorry.  But you have to stay on top of it or else you will have an erupting volcano of dirty skivvies.  If we happen to be gone for the evening, I can always tell come the weekend because I'm scrambling to get caught up.  And at this point, it's become routine.  Home from work--Eat dinner-- Watch Wheel-- Put kid to bed-- Throw in laundry.  Ah, the monotony predictability of family life.

How do you tame the laundry beast?

Simple Savings: Cleaning Wipes

Honestly, I feel a little hypocritical writing a new post about cleaning because the funkiness that's living on my bathroom floor is about to stage a revolt.  However, I can attest that the remaining surfaces in my bathroom have never been cleaner.  (With the exception of the tub, baseboards, and window sill...  So I guess we are just talking about my sink and toilet...)

And I can attribute that to the glory that is the pre-saturated cleaning wipe.

I know a lot of people out there love their Lysol, Clorox, or whatever brand wipes.  But I'm not a big fan.  Mostly because they stink.  But also because they are expensive and wasteful.

However, I'm not denying their convenience.  When I am rushing around trying to get out the door in the morning, the last thing I want to do is track down a spray bottle of cleaning solution and a sponge to wipe down a crusty toilet.

Then one day it dawned on me as I was looking for a place to stash all the old undershirts that I had been hoarding saving for rags (and never used because they were too big).  Why don't I cut these down to a more appropriate size so I can actually use them?  But how am I going to store said scraps of fabric?  Because a big pile of rags thrown in the corner of my closet would send my OCD into panic mode. 

You might not know it, but while the rest of my life is stupidly disorganized, my closets/cabinets/drawers are damn near immaculately ordered.  At least as much as they can be living with other people.

My solution?  I had an old disposable diaper wipe container that was being used by my daughter as a toy.  And being the selfless mother I am, I took it.  Don't worry.  I'm pretty sure she didn't notice. 

But not being particularly well suited for heavy duty cleaning I was still at a bit of a loss for my new rags' purpose in life.  That's when I realized that their new home was a wipe container...  And said container could hold liquid...  So, why don't I reincarnate my rags into household wipes?

Being the precise measurer that I am, I splashed in some vinegar (which is a mild disinfectant), added some water, and stashed them in the bathroom.  Now whenever I need a quick wipe-down of the bathroom, I have supplies at the ready and it's only cost me about a penny and 30 seconds of my time.  Win-Win.

Now if only I could find a time saving way to gain control over my floors... 

Now watch as I try to break my attachment to paper clutter. It ain't gonna be pretty...

Every time I sit down at our desk I have a little panic attack.  Because I'm being swarmed by piles upon piles of paper like a hive full of angry bees.  (Shudder...)

You see, I'm one of those people that's afraid of paperless billing.  (However, if you give me $10 off my bill, I'm all over it...)  So, I have mounds of unchecked credit card statements, utility bill stubs, and vet receipts going back as far as 1987.  Well, not quite.  But it sure feels like it.

While some of the piles can be attributed to pure laziness, others are caused by not knowing what to do with said paperwork, and the rest?  Well, I just can't fit them in the file drawers.  Because I've been saving bank statements since 2001.  For accounts I don't even hold anymore.  (And that's not an exaggeration.)

Rather than continue to be paralyzed by the enormity of my mountain o' paper, I'm going on a purging spree!

But what do I legitimately need to keep?  I've referenced paystubs from three jobs ago.  I've compared utility bills for accuracy six months later.  I've gone back in my medical records to confirm dates of service.  So.  How.  Do.  I.  Decide.  What.  Needs.  To.  Go...?

According to the powers that be (The IRS, CNN Money, and Good Housekeeping) these are the guidelines for cutting through your paperwork clutter.

• Tax returns and proof of filing:  Forever.  In case you're audited, and to have a history of your finances.
• Tax Documents (1099s, W-2s, statements, and receipts):  3 years.  Unless you have unreported income that equals more than 25% of your gross income.  Then keep records for 6 years.  Or if you filed a fraudulent (or no) return; keep records indefinitely.  Although, if that's the case, then I think you're screwed either way.
• Receipts:  Until the warranty expires for big-ticket purchases.  Unless it was for a tax deductible purchase.  Or you need proof of value in the event of a catastrophe that destroys said item.
• Investments:  7 years if you claim a loss on your tax return.  Which I think we've all had some experience with in the last few years...
• Medical bills:  Typically one year, unless, of course, you claimed medical expenses on your tax return.  Or you're kinda creepy and like to reminisce about the time you had a colonoscopy in 2002.
• Pay stubs:  Until you receive your W-2.  Or until you die.  Just kidding.  I don't need my kids seeing how little I was financially appreciated in 2004.
• 401(k) & IRA statements:  Until the year-end summary arrives.
• Bank statements:  Until the end of the year.  They say to confirm your 1099, however, I don't think that's applicable to me, so I'll probably keep the previous year on hand for awhile longer.
• Utility bills:  Until the end of the year.  I need to take baby steps here, so I'll get rid of anything from 2009 or earlier.  That's a good compromise, right?
• Credit card statements:  One month.  Ha!  You're kidding, right?!  My OCD can't handle parting with all that paper at once.  That's like giving up my lovie...  But I think I can manage to get rid of anything older than a year... ish.
• Automobile records:  As long as you own the vehicle.  I actually added this one myself because I have a lot of space allocated to loan statements, personal property taxes, and service records.  I'd imagine that you can cull things down by saving only annual loan statements and getting rid of old tax bills, but I really like having service records on hand.  That way if I take my car to the shop and when tell me I need a new right front tire, I can say, "What you talkin' 'bout, Willis?  You replaced that tire 4 months ago!"  And it also looks good to potential car buyers if you're looking to push your jalopy onto some poor schmo.  Not that I would ever try to take advantage of someone that way...  (Nah, that switch is for making the car invisible to police...  It has nothing to do with turning on the fuel pump...)

Stay tuned for before/after photos!

I am obviously not Mexican although I do love Nachos Bell Grande- even if it isn't real meat.

Last night I hit the wall.  Ran out of steam.  Burned out.  I've been trying so hard to keep up with this unrealistic idealistic standard of scratch cooking, bread baking, cleaning, laundry and all the other chores of living that I just cracked last night.  And I'm fairly convinced that the copious amounts of Dr. Pepper that I've been consuming regularly along with the junk food I've been eating all week hasn't been helping my ability to keep my cool. 

So when I went into the laundry room last night to run the next wash cycle on the diapers (thinking I was all ahead of the game by starting them before leaving for work) only to discover they were all layed out and dried by my helpful mother-in-law/nanny.  And I kinda lost it.  But why??  That should be a good thing, right?  Well, they weren't washed.  Just rinsed.  So, back in the washer they went.  Now I know that this isn't a big deal.  I didn't waste any effort.  But for some reason, it just threw my OCD into crazy mode. 



I didn't take any pictures of my tortillas,
however they did look a little like this.

And the multi-stage dinner prep?  Yeah, that was destined for failure before I even began.  Beef enchiladas made with homemade tortillas.  Because I know that Matt doesn't like the whole wheat ones we had on hand and I was putting forth my best effort to stay out of the grocery store.

Let me interrupt to say that if you aren't Mexican or know anyone that is Mexican, it is near impossible to make tortillas.  I had absolutely no idea what I was doing and I'm pretty sure that I ended up cooking plain flour discs.  Sounds yummy, eh?  I stopped once I realized that they wouldn't roll, therefore making enchilada assembly IMPOSSIBLE.  I cooked four and threw out the rest of the dough.

The moral of the story?  Sometimes good enough is good enough.

Sure, it's nice to have freshly baked bread in the house.  And I enjoy eating making it.  But to set the standard of only eating homemade bread?  That's asking for failure.  And that's the kind of pressure I've been putting on myself lately.  (Ironically while eating Nachos Bell Grande for lunch.)

And that's what I need to work on.  Simplifying.  And accepting my limitations.  Because the reality is that I'm not a stay at home mom.  And my desire to be is going to push me over the edge if I don't give in a little.