Remember the sign as you walked out of Splash Mountain that read, “You can’t run away from trouble… ain’t no place that far?” Bonnie and I learned that lesson twenty years ago. We tried to run away from our problems by moving to Washington. It wasn’t far enough.

About a year and a half ago, our neighbors tried to run away from their problems by moving to Alabama. That’s four whole states farther away than Washington, but it still wasn’t far enough. We tried to warn them that you can’t run away from your problems by moving to another state, but they insisted that they weren’t running away from their problems. I don’t know if they actually believed that or if they were delusional, but I didn’t buy it. That’s the thing about an outside perspective: you can see things they can’t.

New Year, Same Old Routine

On January 1st every year, it seems like everyone thinks they’re leaving all of their problems in the previous year. That’s even sillier than moving across the country. You can at least move away from the source of some of your problems. Years don’t actually exist, so your problems don’t evaporate just because you tear a page off the calendar. Although I suppose some laws and the IRS are the exceptions.

I fall for the New Year’s trap every year myself. I always think as soon as that ball drops, everything will be jake, and I’ll have a clean slate. But you never get a clean slate, do you? There are always chunks of last year’s grizzle on it.

While I was looking forward to the new year this time around, I was so focused on work that I hardly gave the holidays any thought. They were just a distraction that I wanted to get past so I could get back to work. That was a new experience for me.

That New Year Smell Is Wearing Off

Now, a week into the new year, I’m feeling burned out, overwhelmed, unfocused and discouraged. I look around my house and see a never-ending list of incomplete projects, overdue repairs, and endless, endless cleaning. It would be easy enough to tackle one task at a time, but it never works out that way, does it? Just look at that bathroom fan I installed the other day, and that was relatively straightforward.

So, today, while looking around my garage, trying to decide what project to tackle to try to make a dent in the list, I had a thought. What if I just got rid of everything? I have a garage full of shit that I keep just in case I might need it someday. Take, for instance, my collection of fasteners. It’s nice to have for times when I’m trying to fix something, and I don’t want to take the time to run up to the store, but the fact is, I usually end up having to go to the store anyway because I don’t have the exact screw or nut on hand.

So what if I just got rid of it all? All of the unfinished projects, the unused tools, the tchotchkes, the knick-knacks, and everything else contributing to the clutter in both my mind and space. Is the space all of these things take up really worth the handful of times I ever use most of it? I’m not sure it is. So, I’m thinking about getting rid of all of it to wipe my slate clean and focus on only the things that are really important to me.

I’ll Never Catch That Damn Dragon

As I mentioned previously, we moved to Washington. Before we made the move, though, we moved in with Bonnie’s mom for three months to save some money. Everything we owned was in storage for those three months, so I had nothing to do. There were no projects to be finished, nothing to be repaired or maintained; there was nothing to do. I went to work, came home, and spent time with my wife and baby. I was fully present in my life. Those three months were the happiest I’ve ever been, and I’ve spent the past two decades trying to get back to that place, but there has been an endless pile of shit ever-growing up in front of me ever since.

So, the thought of getting rid of everything but what is essential to my daily life is intoxicatingly appealing, but I wonder, am I trying to run away from my problems yet again? Should I face my to-do list head-on and cross everything off of it? Or am I overthinking? In this situation, I’m sort of leaning toward erring on the side of incaution because the allure of having a clean slate is just so powerful. Besides, what am I out if getting rid of it all was a mistake, a trip to the hardware store?