I used to think of myself as a minimalist (not to be confused with a Menshevik) but in a contemporary, tidy kind of way. Over the past few months I’ve been attempting to train myself not to sweat the small stuff. This now means that my house is often less than immaculate. And this means that everything inside my purse, what I find on my person to carry into the house at end-of-day and whatever I find in the back seat of my car gets dumped into a pile on my desk at home without much of a care. But tonight, when I came home from work, the piles of paperwork and miscellaneous garbage that had accumulated became overwhelming. The tidy well-kept part of me snapped and that was it. I began conquering the mess, making my way though layers of old receipts, expired coupons and month-old appointment renewal cards from my medical providers.
When all was cleared away on my desk (mostly trashed), I came to the ashy gray under-layer of dust coating my black desk. That I’ll save for another night. After all, I’m not sweating the small stuff.
Feeling rather relieved at what I’d accomplished, I stepped back and observed the space I de-cluttered, realizing that I couldn’t stop there. So into my closet I went clearing out old dresses and posting for sale ads on Craigslist when it hit me: prom season just finished. Who will buy these? I’m not sweating the small stuff.
I keep proofing these paragraphs for spelling and grammar errors, but now I’m done. I’m not sweating the small stuff.