Finding myself an advocate for small space living, I focus on all the innovations, creative expressions and wonderful surprises that come with living in a small space. However, as reality does set in, from time to time, I must divert my attention to something not so wonderful—-the accumulation of paper.
Water, water, every where,
Nor any drop to drink.
(Coleridge, The Rime of the Ancient Mariner)
From where I stand, at the moment, I am looking at:
Paper, paper, everywhere, and on the kitchen sink!
Laugh, all you people who never accumulate a magazine, promotional catalogue, first drafts, extra pages of a printing, or even old mail that sits and waits for me to cut out the name and address, before recycling. You may be perfect. You may never touch paper in your lives.
Paper is the scourge of the small space life. It comes in standard sizes, but there is never a good place to stash it before it gets recycled. There is also the question of: how long do I have to keep old papers? Bank records? Receipts? Paid utility bills? Last years’ have already been dutifully filed. But now there are full folders of filed paper. I cannot escape it.
If there were any monsters to drive out of my small space [following the metaphor about Saint Patrick and the snakes of Ireland], they would be of the paper sort. As much as I unsubscribe, halt catalogue deliveries or elect paperless contact, there is always another handful of envelopes that come to me with an offer, a new membership, or even a type of insurance I do not need [car insurance, as I have no car]. I am on a list, somewhere. The List of the Damned.
All is not lost, though. I am confident in my small space skills and will attack this issue with the ferocity I have attacked others. But right now, everything that does not look important is going into a bag or two (those grocery bags that come with delivery). They are shoved under the table, so they masquerade as something else. I will address them when I am in the right mood. But right now, not so much.