Time to Clean Up

Not my office, honest. i got this from author2author.com

Some days you are the pigeon. Some days you are the statue. And some days you have to clean your desk, table, or studio space. You just have to. Either that or plow it under and call one of those reality shows where Donald Trump shows up with 50 cat carriers and has a desperate housewife fire you and send you to rehab. I’m sorry, I don’t watch TV, so it all sounds alike to me.  For me, it was another part of my Word of the Year: Let it Go.

Here are some tough love tips for cleaning that worked for me today.

1. Don’t look back. I tried being serious about saving all those articles I’ll read someday. Then I realized that if I really had wanted to read them, I would have. In the time that I’ve collected the articles, I’ve read four books. So I’m not really motivated to read the articles. Toss them.

This is a perfectionism stumble. “If I were a really good X, I would read, file, remember, sketch, write, use this article, image, scrap of ephemera.” Deep breath. It’s a perfectionist thing. Toss it.

Yes, you will probably need it within 10 minutes of the trash truck vanishing down the street with it. Toss it anyway.

2. You won’t buy it anyway. Catalogs marked with turned-down page corners for storage, filing, clothing items. Largely waiting for a windfall. When windfall comes, will need something else. Toss catalogs.

3. Compare and act. Two of the items I wanted in the winter catalog are now on half-price sale. Pick up phone and order. Done. Move on.

4. Even if you teach, throw it out. I have a huge stack of magazines, catalogs, flyers that are “perfect” for that collage class that I’m not teaching this month. Or next. More stuff will accumulate. Toss it out.

5. Start where you are. Don’t try to catch up. More paper is mistakenly saved because you are scared to throw it out, for fear of forgetting, falling behind or forgetting. Unless it bank or tax stuff, make NOW your starting point. Easier and saves the nerves.

–Quinn McDonald wishes she would clean up more often. The desk has a nice wood grain she rarely sees.

Flying by the Motorcycle

Standing in the garage tonight, I looked longingly at my motorcycle. It’s too hot to ride right now. I can feel the heat of the pavement through my boots, and the air that pushes through my protective jacket is furnace-hot. But I thought lovingly of the next time I will be out on the bike, feel the air rushing by. . . and get hit by a piece of trash someone throws out of their car window.

Fire-started cigarette about to bounce on the street. From Care2.com

A lot of people in Arizona smoke, and when they are done with the cigarette, it goes out the window. Fire danger be damned, they can’t put it out in the car because ashtrays are now plastic and meant for coins. A cigarette butt comes out of windows on either side of the car,  trailing embers.  You can see it bouncing in the air stream, and you flinch when it smacks your face shield, drops in your lap and burns through your jeans.  Good thing I wear gloves when riding the bike; although the drivers who watched me slapping at my crotch must wonder why a motorcyclist behaves this way.

Cigarette butts are the least of what I see–and sometimes wear–when people throw them out of car windows. I learned a long time ago that washable clothing is a must when you are riding.

Coffee, with and without cream or sugar, in cups from Starbucks and Dunkin

There’s a road under there somewhere.

Donuts come flying out of passenger and drivers’ windows. So do Big Gulps, Slushees, ice cream cones. Food at 65 miles an hour is surprisingly hard. PB&Js leave a bruise at that speed. And that’s just the food. There are paper cups, napkins, whole bags of fast-food leftovers. Never money, though.

Seldom books, but often magazines, and once a baby diaper–used– and I was lucky to dodge that one. But I couldn’t miss the stuffed animal, shoe or hairbrush. Luckily, the T-shirt, beer bottle and teething ring weren’t close enough to cause damage. And the rope, sneaker and grocery bag with something in it were throw out of cars on the other side of the road.

When I tell people I ride a bike, most people tell me how we scare them because we stop too fast or they can’t see us. Maybe because they are throwing trash out the window.

–Quinn McDonald is a creativity coach who bobs and weaves her way down Arizona highways on her motorcycle.