Minimalist In The Making

Family pictures are precious, and displaying them made conversation when visitors came. The down side is dusting them. I generally save housework to make it worth all the effort. Memories have a way of accumulating like dust bunnies under the bed.

I needed to sort through them, and enlisted my husband to help in this decision-making nightmare. He was no help.

“Why are you asking me, I’m not the decorator here?”

Determination Spilled In

A memory came over me of my childhood closet. My parents home was circa 1920’s when storage was wanting. My closet doubled as a pint-size attic. It’s contents were listing into my clothes.

A fit of determination spilled over me as I proceeded to clean it out. How can a young girl determine to save or pitch what took her folks a lifetime to accumulate? It can’t be done. So it all went back.

This Stuff Was Our Stuff

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I was determined to flush something out.

“What should we do with this picture Aunt Vic painted, whom we have never met?”

One thing in my favor was our open floor plan that gave us few walls to work with. Did I love this picture enough to dust it forever? Nope.

One decision seems to hinge on another though. Is this the way I’m going to keep my furniture arrangement? Where is the dart board going to hang downstairs?

“I’d like a mantle size shelf over the bed so I can ….” You get the idea.

“I’d like to put my wood hanger collection in the bathroom. Where are they anyway? I wish we could locate the box they got packed in. What would be helpful is to have a large case on wheels that would house the keeper pictures that aren’t on display. Where could we keep that?”

Round and round she goes, where she ends, nobody knows.