A messy desk is actually better for creativity, according to all the scientists you went to school with who are now making more money than you. Researchers at the University of Minnesota (see page 13) and Northwestern came up with similar results: When test subjects were placed in a clean room, they showed more conventional thinking when it came to creative uses for ping-pong balls. (Yup, beer pong.) The people in the messy room? They came up with crazier uses for ping-pong balls (especially if they’d been to a sex show in Amsterdam).
Being in a messy environment means you’re more fucking interesting. It means your brain is fired up and making weird connections. It means you’re less likely to stick with conventional ideas. Example: My hairdresser and I were talking about an upcoming snowstorm and he said something like, “It really makes you wonder.” Wonder what? I asked. “Who controls the weather,” he said. He thinks the government controls the weather. He was from Florida, though, so maybe it’s not all his fault. But I bet his desk is fucking messy as hell. So guess what? All those books telling you to declutter for peace of mind are actually making you more boring. Cleanliness encourages you to live a mundane lifestyle. A predictable lifestyle. One with beige walls and floors and ceilings that keeps you enclosed in its little cube of boredom as you advance slowly toward mediocrity and death. But escape is easy enough. And if your desk is already messy—congratulations! You’re probably one step away from writing the next SCUM Manifesto or inventing an app to cure loneliness.
Join the messy desk revolution and start thinking about weird things. Put a GoPro on your carp. Make a mug of that flowered herbal tea you brought back from Bhutan (the first nation in the world to ban plastic bags, you’ll tell anyone who’ll listen). Carve your lover’s initials into your desk or forearm. Add your name to the list of awesome people who contribute to society and whose desks are (or were) messy as shit and who don’t belong to the cult of keeping things clean: Anne Sexton, Charlotte Perkins Gilman, Mark Zuckerberg, Steve Jobs. Hell, Sylvia Plath wrote on a typewriter outdoors, according to a photo I saw on the internet. Ditch the desk altogether and just find a field full of ants somewhere and get inspired.
BATHROOM: Indoor plumbing is a privilege. Don’t fu*k with it.
Take a walk over to your bathroom. Whether it’s a shitty rental bathroom in Astoria or a nice cabin bathroom in Muskoka, I bet it’s a tiny bit of a disaster. The mirror has spots on it. The hand towel has mascara on it. And maybe your moisturizer with SPF 45 is still sitting on the counter from earlier this morning. Along with your pants from last night. And your shoes. Maybe there are four or five hair ties scattered around, helpfully. There’s probably also a wicker storage basket or two nearby, overflowing with various products that make you look amazing. I mean, how could you not? Especially after those Korean beauty products hit the market in a real way and you went insane like the rest of us for sheet masks and essences and serums and snail mucus. The Tidy Club suggests putting everything away after you use it. If I did that, I wouldn’t be able to find anything and would then just have to buy more things, which wouldn’t be so bad. It’s all probably the same cream made in the same factory in China and packaged in different bottles, but that's not for us to judge. Anyway, leave all your products out where you can see them. If you’re one of those people that only uses, like, lip balm and Vaseline and a bar of soap for your beauty routine, congratulations—but your bathroom is still messy, I’m betting.
Besides, who gives a shit about being tidy in your bathroom? Only people you like or who you’re fucking will see it. (Or the plumber, maybe, sometimes.) I say just be fucking grateful for having a bathroom at all. One hundred years ago, you’d be pooping outside and worrying about sweeping the outhouse floor, probably.
More than 2.6 billion people do not have indoor plumbing—including more than 1.5 million Americans. It’s a wonderful thing, whether or not there’s clutter or the décor is exactly as you want it. My dad grew up in England after the war, and for years he bathed in an old copper tub in the front room, like some kind of adorable Victorian. That was just one generation ago. So spare me your sob story about how all the bathrooms you’ve pinned on Pinterest are unattainable. You want cedar benches and marble countertops? Copper hardware? Rainforest shower? All-white spa towels? Heated floors? Hotel-level cleanliness? You probably also wanted to run a B&B in Goa after your life-changing trip to India 10 years ago, and wish your stomach were flatter, too.
Check yourself for a moment, you ungrateful wench. Think about how great it is to have your poop quickly funneled away from your house with the touch of a handle. Acknowledge that it is very cool not to have to schlep your poop outside in a bucket. Now, once you’ve appreciated how good you have it, rummage around in one of those wicker storage baskets, pull out a sheet mask (snail mucus ones are the best), and slap that thing on your face. Make sure to take a selfie, because those things are creepy as hell.
KITCHEN: You have to eat to live, and that’s going to make a mess
I don’t actually use my kitchen because I live within a block of 47 restaurants and I have a lot of money to spend on eating out because writers are wealthy people. I use my stove for storage. It’s filled with a bunch of diner mugs. My fridge is a bar fridge. Or what Europeans call a fridge because everything over there is one-third the size of American things. It’s filled with mixers for my rye and vodka and rum. I know from social media and Pinterest that a lot of you have nice-looking kitchens. You use them to store and make food. I’ve also learned from accidentally clicking on baking blogs while browsing for porn (“Sweaty Betty in the Kitchen” is a misleading name, no?) that baking can be messy. Why bother trying to clean that shit up? You probably know how to make five or six things maximum, so you’re going to use the same ingredients over and over. What’s the point of cleaning up a mess if you’re just going to make another mess a few hours later?
For example, baking a “naked cake” involves flour, sugar, baking soda, cake mix, chocolate chips, salmon, fresh-cut flowers, plus a bunch of bowls, mixers, and spoons, probably. You have that after dinner and then it’s time for coffee and the sugar is already out. Yes, being messy means being more efficient.
Quantity is also key for every kitchen space. The more utensils and ingredients the better. You should definitely own as many appliances as you can. Donut makers. Deep fryers. Vegetable spiralizers. Coffee grinders. Ice cream makers. Slow cookers. Knife sharpeners. Automatic can openers. When you’re done cooking, tell your kitchen thank you for your service. Or better yet, tell your kitchen to chill the fuck out and then throw your dirty dishes out the window. I had a friend that used to do this in university. It works best with a lot of snow. And no people, obviously. Then, when everything melts in the spring, you’ve got a yard full of pans and dishes and it’s basically a Picasso sculpture from his Surrealist period (thanks MoMA) or some hippie’s front yard art installation in Santa Fe.
PANTRY: Buy now, eat later
You need more cans of soup. Armageddon hasn’t happened yet, but it will soon. The dollar could tank. The banks could not be big enough and fail. The big one could hit California. Your Internet could go out for a few hours. Buy that shit in bulk and stock up. Stockpiling food is a real thing you should do—it isn’t just for insane militiamen anymore. The more food, the better. Who knows how long the radiation could last. Don’t have a pantry? Use the garage or a spare bedroom. Nothing is more fun at a dinner party than taking your guests on a tour of your 40 cases of Amy’s Organic Lentil Soup and economy-size Clinique moisturizer. Side note: When Armageddon hits, say goodbye to your vegan or gluten-free diet. You’re going to be eating shit that’s more upsetting to your stomach than a few wheat molecules.
BEDROOM: A fu*king glorious mess
My grandmother used to starch and iron her bed linens. She also raised four kids and had a job at the post office. This isn’t to shame you about why your bedroom looks like shit but to demonstrate how far we’ve come as a society. My grandmother did that beca
use she lived in a small town of 400 people in the 1940s, and if she didn’t do that shit, word would get out and the other ladies around town would disapprove. Or maybe they’d have been like, that’s a great idea, and the patriarchy would have fallen years ago. But here we are and the only starched linens you’ll ever see are in a hotel. And that’s the way it should be. You know why? People at the hotel are paid a (hopefully) living wage to starch those sheets. You and me, my friend, have other things to do. Our bedrooms are for sleeping, napping, laptop watching, cookie eating, dressing and undressing, sex-having, snoring, etc. Bedrooms should be piled high with clothing piles. The duvet should be on the floor. The sheets all tangled and covered in ink stains from your incessant journaling. The blinds askew because they’re those venetian blinds that only go up on one side and now the cord is all tangled and you haven’t had time to fix them. There’s a dog bed in the corner even through your dog sleeps on your bed most nights. Some condom wrappers on the floor. A few clothing items hanging from the doorknob. A fucking glorious mess. Pat yourself on the back.
Our grandmothers would be horrified at the state of our bedrooms. And also a little jealous. Who knows what they would have done with all that free time?
CLOSET: Does it have a door? Shut it.
My husband and I share a small one-bedroom apartment. In this apartment is one closet. Not one bedroom closet. One closet total. We both hang our clothes in it. We share it. It’s full, and it’s fine. We don’t need systems. We don’t need special hangers. We have clothing, we hang it up. Or we leave it on the floor. End of story. If no more shit can fit, we get rid of some of it. (I donate his clothing when he’s at work.) This is how you can effectively deal with your closet. By not trying so hard.
Go stand in front of your closet. Do it now. You’ll never get the most out of this book if you don’t do all the exercises. Now look at your closet. Are the clothes organized from lightest to darkest? From summer clothing to winter? What about by color? Probably not, right? Are the clothes a jumbled mess on the floor? A few things hung up inside-out or with cat hair on them? Do you see a few items in there you don’t really wear anymore? Super. You’re a fucking failure. Go jump out the window because you’re literally never going to have sex again. Kidding.
You are in the majority of closet owners. But you’re not happy. Why is that? Because society says your closet should be organized and your life will be changed for the better once you do that. For example, HGTV recommends scheduling an hour out of your week to declutter your closet. What the living fuck. I love you, 5-hour HGTV marathons, but don’t tell me what to do. What are we left with? A closet that’s messy and the guilt that comes from various sources telling us to tidy it. Closet solutions. Closet systems. Just an hour a day! Why is no one calling bullshit? Being told your closet isn’t up to snuff is irritating. You have permission to have a messy closet. That’s why most closets have doors. Is the door closed? Great. On to the next chapter, where we’ll look at how to handle specific items within your messy home.
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6. I once met the then-editor of Us Weekly in a bar in Manhattan. I asked him many questions about whether or not he thought Beyoncé’s pregnancy belly was real. We came to no definitive conclusion, but it definitely wasn’t real.
4.
Dealing with the actual sh*t in your house
“Buying is a profound pleasure.”
—SIMONE DE BEAUVOIR
Every room gets messy differently. That's why when you're ignoring clutter and mess, it's good to learn how to do it by category. Your clothing heaps deserve just as little attention as your knickknacks and paddywhacks. Whether it's clutter from too many children or simply from your fantastic collection of plants that are somehow not dead yet, we'll take a look at how to ensure everything you own is piled in heaps and in multiples of two so you can get on with your life. Sound joyful? That's because it is.
CLOTHES: Don’t fold them or they’ll wrinkle
Retailers pay employees to hand-steam T-shirts and fold them into little origami swans to make you want to buy them. Fine. I’ll buy another 40-dollar “tissue” tee from J. Crew which I’ll immediately get caught on a nail. But don’t bring that mentality home with you. Once you’ve bought something, take it out of the bag, rip the tags off it, and wear it immediately for the rest of the day and preferably also as pajamas that night. The key to wearing it in perfectly is to get it stained as quickly as possible. For me, it’s usually coffee or errant BB cream that does the trick. Once it’s broken in, you can relax. Take it off, leave it on the floor, step on it and around it. Let it marinate there until next time you need it. And rest assured it will be 100 percent broken in and cool looking. Oh, this T-shirt I wore to your birthday party? Yeah, thanks, I’m wearing it to show I 100 percent do not give a fuck what anyone thinks of me, which is a fashion choice of sorts, which perpetuates the idea that rumpled = cool. Which it does. So stop being a square and worrying about folding your jeans. You don’t have time for that, and you’re not in the military where you can’t even wear jeans anyway. Next.
LOUNGEWEAR: It’s all you should wear
My coworker wore black yoga pants to work one day, and her husband was like, “So you’ve given up?” Joke is on him. Yoga pants are comfortable, and you should own 40 pairs even if you don’t yoga. Feel free to also own sexy shit, but let’s all acknowledge that most of us go to bed in dick-shriveling sweatpants. Realizing that your clothes should only consist of loungewear is part of growing up. When you move in with your first boyfriend, you’re like, Must invest in a bunch of lace nighties and shave my vag. Every night you’re lounging in Victoria’s Secret line of sex-worker- inspired bras. Your only fee is the D, get me? Then 10 years later you’re investing in a robe made of 1,000 rabbit furs and socks lined with sheep faces and you’ve never been more comfortable. You’ve realized that going to sleep and being comfortable are your rights as a human being. You’ve stopped dressing for anyone else. Plus, loungewear still looks amazing when it’s wrinkled, and you wash it maybe every two weeks, tops.
Know this: Lingerie is just a big conspiracy. Sure, it’s fun to wear, and fun to buy, and you should own a shit ton of it. But it’s for special occasions—not every day. Have you ever tried hanging around in a silk nightgown for example? They’re slippery as fuck. And when you spill wine on them, they stain really easily. Have you ever had a lace front-wedgie? Not fucking pleasant. Don’t believe anyone who tells you they wear sexy lingerie to bed every night. Especially if they live in a cold climate. Literally everyone in Saskatchewan wears an entire fleece outfit made by Roots to bed every night from October through May because it’s the best. So stock up. Jogging pants. Hoodies. Onesies. Socks. T-shirts. Golden Rule: If it’s elastic, it feels fantastic.
PURSE: 90 items or fewer
If you have to leave the country and start over from scratch in Costa Rica (where all criminals go to party), your purse should already contain everything you need. Passport. Fresh panties. Aspirin. Lipstick. Selfie stick. Flask. Credit card. Tiny snub-nosed handgun like from the movies. Burner cell phone.
That’s why you should always purchase the biggest purse you can carry. Here’s a good purse test: Can it fit a bottle of wine? No? Move on. Yes? Buy it. Then fill it with everything you need and never empty it or clean it. Those 40 pennies in the bottom will work themselves out somehow. The KonMari Method, on the other hand, advocates emptying your purse every night, folding it, and thanking it for its service. Can you fucking imagine? I’m telling you right now that’s the road to insanity. Your one-night stand is definitely going to write you into his next screenplay if you do that shit.
Your purse is big and full of stuff because you need stuff throughout your day. No one likes the evenings they’re forced to use a fucking clutch. A clutch fits half a tampon and half your phone. Pointless. And later, when you want to check your abacus or tag an overpass, you won’t have the right tools. So embrace your giant purse. And remember, when you’re stu
ck on the Q train because the FDNY is rescuing homeless kittens from the tracks, your airline almonds, flashlight, bolt cutters, and cat food will come in handy while you’re Snapchatting your followers about the delay.
SHOES: Keep them
Accumulating as many shoes as possible is an acceptable goal in life. I still have shoes from 1999—Spice Girls-era high-heeled sport sandals. And don’t worry about spraying protector on them—that shit is a scam run by the shoe stores. If you own suede boots, don’t wear them in the rain. That’s your real protection.
The Joy of Leaving Your Sh*t All Over the Place Page 3
