A journalist observes life in the far north.
I recently visited a friend who lives in a modern, spacious four-bedroom house. The kitchen is about as big as my kitchen plus the living room. There’s a family room, game room, two craft rooms and a theater room. This house has matching leather furniture and stone counter tops. The master bathroom has his and her sinks.
I was envious except for one thing. There are piles of clutter in every corner. Clutter appears to be taking over this magnificent house.
To feel better for having a more modest place—I may as well live in a tent compared with that house—I told myself: If I had a nice place like this, I wouldn’t keep piles of stuff all around. I would throw away all of the useless crap. I would fold and put away the laundry. I would make the kids clean their rooms.
Then I came home and was brought back to reality. My unopened mail basket was overflowing. Lucky’s room looked like it could be featured in an episode of Hoarders. I had a pile of laundry needing folding about the size of Mount Everest.
The lesson here? If I am going to be self-righteous, than I had better walk the walk.