As I was moving restlessly around in my apartment today, trying to find a task to do - a cupboard to clean or some papers to purge - I suddenly realized that I had reached this point where there's not much more to get rid of. Not that there will be no need for some maintenance down the road, but I'm definitely in my comfort zone when it comes to stuff.
And then it dawned on me. I can read a book! I can learn to cook something that takes hours! I can breathe.
After all, that's why I started decluttering a couple of years ago. I wanted to read a book, drink a glass of wine, and not worry about some unfinished task or stuff begging for attention. I wanted to be able to focus on one thing at a time. And now that I'm there, I almost find it hard to slow down and enjoy the result of my decluttering. I never imagined that one has to practice at not being busy, but here I am. Today's exercise will be this book:
I worked for this.