A few days ago I received a package in the mail from an old friend who I hadn’t seen in more than a year. In the package was a windbreaker of mine that my friend had worn home (to Boston, from Denver) on a cold autumn day when I’d delivered him, unprepared for the cold snap, to the airport. “Just keep it until we see each other again,” I said. “It’s only a windbreaker. No sense freezing.”
This package in the mail puzzled me, so I wrote my friend a brief note. It said, in part, “Thanks – I think – for sending me back my varsity jacket. I take this to mean we are still going steady – at least until you send me back the class ring too? Just to be sure, though: Does this mean you are never returning to Colorado? Because, if so, I’m gonna be very disappointed. PS. Sorry about all the AOC digs. If it really bugs you that much, I’ll stop.” Yeah, that’s how we talk sometimes, my friend and I.
Anyway, he replied in short order and reassured me that my fears of a permanent breakup were unfounded. He went on to say this: “All of your guessing is way off the mark. The truth is that my wife has fallen for the tidying craze instigated by a Japanese woman named Marie Kondo, or something like that. This led her to question me repeatedly about who the jacket belonged to. And if it was you, why did I not send it back to you? When she went so far as to pack it for shipment, I dutifully went to the post office and sent it along… etc, etc. Yours in tidiness.”
********
Until that point in my life I had never heard of Marie Kondo. But then, today, I saw this piece in the DP (borrowed from the Washington Post, written b) about none other than Marie Kondo and her Netflix series, “Tidying Up With Marie Kondo.” It has “inspired a national decluttering frenzy,” the headline trumpeted. “Frenzy?” Do tell.
I’m not sure about you, but the idea of “an eight-part series hosted by a Japanese-born decluttering diva and space healer” seems a bit like over-kill to me. The article goes on:
Although resolving to clean up stuff is a typical New Year’s resolution, there is rarely something as motivating to kick-start the process as a reality makeover show that’s not about weird hoarders. Binge-watching a cheery woman in a flippy skirt who drives up to people’s ranch houses or apartments in a black van and patiently shows them how to deal with their baseball cards or sneaker collections is inspiring. (Reminder: The KonMari Method, as it is called, asks you to hold each possession and ask yourself whether it sparks joy. And if it doesn’t, thank it for its service and let it go.)
Oooo-kay then. “Thank you for your service?” I guess.
********
Disclaimer: I do Airbnb with my townhouse in California, so keeping things tidy for my guests is not just spiritually satisfying, it’s a necessity for ongoing business. But the further fact is, I am descended from a long line of neat freaks. We don’t need Marie Kondo, or anybody else, breathing down our necks to keep clutter at bay. The ghost of Marzella Wolf will do just fine, thank you very much.
Bottom line, I’ve never been much of a reality TV kinda guy. So the idea of somebody – even a cheery Japanese woman in a flippy skirt – pulling up in front of my place in a black van – or any color van, really – is not the sort of thing that I find “inspiring.” Unless you mean maybe it inspires me to break out the twelve-gauge I keep stashed under my bed – but I digress. Now get off my porch, put your flippy skirt back in your black van, and go home. Thanks. We’ve got it under control here. Truly.
********
All’s well that ends well, I suppose: I got my windbreaker back. My friend’s place is now decluttered. And his wife is very happy, I’m sure. Also, Marie Kondo’s Netflix show is a smash hit. Good for her. Maybe next year when her show gets renewed, some Netflix exec will come up with the brilliant idea to combine it with one of the weird hoarder shows. I know a couple of weird hoarders who could really use that kind of help. Then maybe Marie Kondo can do some actual good in the world. Imagine that.
Namaste.
