How I Got From Point A to Point B

If you look at the random things I've written about this week, it may not be immediately obvious how two of them are connected. (Aren't human minds amazing?) But yes, the "where do I put the Christmas tree" question led me right into the "do I want Ikea for yarn storage" question, though you might want to leave a trail of breadcrumbs to follow my "logic".

I want a Christmas tree this year, and let's be honest, what I really want is tied in to that emotional memory of the tall, wide, beautiful, perfect tree that we put in the round end of the enormous living room of the house where I grew up. I want to be helping my father put the lights on, not doing it myself. I want to be a child, feeling safe in the surety that Santa will come. It's all in the tree, you know? Wait, let me find a picture!

Intellectually, I know I can't recreate my childhood with this year's tree, not really, but in a sense that's what holiday traditions do, isn't it? I have ornaments that predate my existence, from the first Christmas after my parents were married, easily identified by the blurry, cloudy film on them, which is there because my (poor, innocent, Jewish, not-raised-with-Christmas) father sprayed a can of fake snow all over the tree with its brand-new ornaments. I remember how excited I got, running back and forth between the boxes and the tree every year, finding and hanging the ones I loved best. Than after it was done, walking around and around the tree, trying to find all six of the teardrops, looking for all the ones with my name on them (when your name is not spelled the most popular way, having things with your name on them is magic). If you're lucky, you have these sorts of memories to look back on, and if you're really lucky, you remember not just the golden nostalgic glow, but the funny stories that only your family went through. Here, I'm picturing the college student who was staying with us one year, her arm deep in the tree, pulling out the climbing cat; what comes to your mind?

Last year certainly wasn't my only year without a tree at home; in fact, my first year on my own, I found a way to put up ornaments without a tree. Go, me!

Anyway! Way to sidetrack! The point to this (no, really, I had one!) was that much as I like my little condo, its layout is not conducive to Christmas tree placement. There's room for a small one in the living room, if you don't mind sidling around it and not being able to see the TV clearly for a month, but I kind of do mind. The office is so small that, even though it doesn't actually have that much junk in it by volume, by percent of available space it's pretty full. And the spot in the bedroom where I had the tree two years ago:

Is where, in the interim, I have moved my yarn and knitting supplies. Add to that the fact that I have pretty much (okay, completely) outgrown that space for yarn, what with all my yarn purchases this fall, and you can see why "no easy place to put the tree" led directly to "what to do about the yarn", right?

So I got to thinking about that poor, misguided office space. I've never fully grasped what I want to do with this room; I've had ideas, I've tried, but it's never quite jelled. Yes, it's the office; the computer is there, and a file cabinet, and it's where I pay my bills. It's been a guest room, all of twice in six years, I think. But mostly, it's got stuff in it. Not-sure-what-to-do-with-it stuff. Things I should get rid of, but don't know where they should go, or that I'm not quite ready to let go of. Odds and ends of ... stuff.

But it's time to start doing. Well, time and past time, but better late than etc. I started by writing down what I want in the office, and then listed the kinds of things that need to go to make that happen.

What I want falls into essentially two categories: office and knitting. It would be nice to have the room function as a guest space, too, but it's a small, strangely shaped room (it almost has a vanishing point), and I may only be able to get two types of use out of it. I can be at peace with those two being the ones I use every day. I don't have guests often, and when I do, they're family, or close enough that we can be flexible.

For the office, my needs are simple: the computer, the file cabinet, and the shredder. Put the computer on a table with room for the bill-paying paraphernalia, and that's set. In fact, a smaller table would be good, since my pile-it-up habits expand to fill the space available. I could take the leaf out of the table I'm currently using, that should work.

For knitting, I need storage space, mostly for yarn but also needles, tools, and books; I like the idea of a glass-front cabinet so that I can see the pretty yarn, but the dust and cat hair is deterred. I'd like to be able to leave the swift and ball-winder set up, instead of having to put them up every time I want to wind yarn. And I'd like a comfy (emphasize: comfy) chair, like a squashy armchair, with a good lamp and a side table. Simple enough.

Now, what this means is that there are things I need to either get rid of, or find better places for. There can be some non-office or non-craft storage in there, if it's out of the way under a table, or by the window being a cat perch (the cats currently sleep on the heated pad by the window, which is on top of a short stack of Rubbermaid totes, so I can keep that up; cat window access is a must, one way or another). Some of it needs to get out of the room, though. 

For instance, I think it's time to get rid of the love seat that's in there. I almost never sit there, and so I've been putting things down on it, and a six-foot-long stuff-catcher I do not need. It's ratty (it's off-white, it wasn't new when I first saw it in 1996, and then there are the cats...), and though it's comfortable, it's also fairly low to the ground, which I find increasingly awkward (I've mentioned that I'm getting older, right? oh, you too?). Basically, it's time for it to find another home. Hopefully I can find someone who wants it for their basement playroom, or kid's first apartment, who will come take it away if it's free.

Another thing I'm (finally) ready to get rid of has been with me for around 15 years, and though I still think it's cool, I am acknowledging that I simply don't use it. This is a huge framed magnetic board, about three feet by five feet, and while having magnetic poetry and dress-up David and Venus magnets to play with is a fun idea, in practice it's too big to be anywhere but stuck in a corner, where I don't think about it. Someone will want it, I feel sure, and have fun with it. David and Venus can go on the fridge.

It's also time to throw out the old cassette tapes I don't listen to; I may keep a few, but let's be real, not many. I do have a tape player in my car, so it's not that they're completed out-technologied, but I don't listen to music all that often. I'm not even trying to find a home for them; no one wants them. I know. Trash'em, boom, move on.

There's other stuff I need to sort through, which is probably as much trash/donate as anything, who knows? That's why I need to go through it. I need to make room for my vision of this room, of what it can be, what I want it to be.

By the way, none of this solves the tree issue for this year. It's going to take some time to make this work. But having a plan of some sort makes me feel better about fitting the tree in weirdly this year.