Like, oh roughly, 99% of the country right now, I’ve jumped on the Marie Kondo bandwagon. Actually that’s a lie. I haven’t watched a single episode, but I caught the gist from the preview on my way to watch Lady Dynamite.
Anyhoo, the important thing is I’ve made a life-altering decision based on a 30 second clip and the siren song of the latest trend sweeping its way through cluttered homes everywhere: I’m about to Marie Kondo my life. I’m serious, if something isn’t sparking immediate joy, that ish is on its way to the proverbial Goodwill.
Here’s a working list:
There are few things that bring me less joy than small talk. In fact, it comes just below ‘root canal’ on my personal joy-o-meter. So from now on if someone starts talking to me about the weather, the plan is to yell “NOT TODAY!! I CHOOSE JOY!!” until they shrink away in horror.
Cooking for my kids.
Look, I get genuine, Kondo-approved bliss from cooking, but my kids’ reaction to my sumptuous creations is decidedly less joyful. Solution? From now on, complaining offspring will be folded into tidy, space-saving squares and stored somewhere I can’t hear them.
I thank you for your time and service, but the time has come for us to part ways. I’m not saying this has anything to do with me waking up EVERY SINGLE NIGHT FOR THE LAST YEAR AND A HALF to the sound of you eating a random plastic bag you found. I’m NOT saying that. Okay, yeah, it’s the bag thing. WTF is wrong with you?! Be well, furry friend.
‘Cause you know what? If we’re gonna do this, let’s do it. You’re out, work. If you can get some joy in there somehow by, say, being more like play, give me a call.
Ugh I can’t even remember the last time a bill sparked joy in my life, so I’m over it. Fortunately the whole ‘no work’ thing should take care of this on its own. Namaste, Visa.
I’m on a roll here. Traffic, please pack your knives and go.
People who talk on their cell phones at the gym.
Thank you, next.
Slow walkers in front of me at the grocery store.
Read the labels on your own time, lady. Out.
The new season of Project Runway Allstars.
Okay, you’re not in the donate pile yet, but let’s step it up. We’ll call this a friendly warning.
You’ve pulled the wool over everyone’s eyes for too long, but it’s not working on me, sister. I still remember when you were just a garnish on my plate, sitting right there next to the lemon. Now some people want to elevate you to ice cream status?? No ma’am.
The Great British Baking Show.
I actually really like you, but I don’t know how to stop this train at this point.
Wait, how did that get on here? I could never get rid of you, listicles. I probably wouldn’t be a writer without you!
Okay, things got a little dark there for a minute and we all said some things we might be regretting now. The good news is I’m feeling lighter already! Now it’s time to drop these things off and immediately begin filling my life up again with adorable decorative boxes that definitely won’t be swept away when the next housekeeping craze hits. Huzzah!