"Before" photos

The meat of today's post is a handful of photos of Theo and Cori's room on an average day. The state of their room has been bugging me a little lately and I've been wondering if I can make any improvements to it.

I am hoping these can serve as "before" photos and that one day there will be some "after" photos. 

I've been on yet another decluttering and minimalizing kick ever since my seminary roommate, Cassie, recently got me into The Minimal Mom on YouTube. The host, Dawn, is friends with Dana K. White of A Slob Comes Clean and so of course I read all of her books, too. 

One fun tip White recommends in Organizing For The Rest of Us is taking before-and-after photos of the spaces you're working on. 

Usually when I finish organizing a section of the house, I can't believe how I actually improved and transformed a space. Mostly, I'm left wondering why I ever waited so long to start.

But then, despite past successes, I still look at spaces in my house and feel hopeless. It's hard to imagine things being any way other than how they are.

So of course I wouldn't think to take a "before" picture. Because there's never going to be an "after."

However, today, I've decided to get curious and see what might happen if I take a "before" picture—if one can even call it that.

Before (see what I did there?), I would have seen a (my) blog as a platform for showing finished projects. Today, I’m just showing up.

Is it possible to subvert the whole concept of underpromising/overdelivering? What if, instead of setting any goals, be they tiny or aspirational, we held—without expectation—snapshots of where we are right now, existing in what we hope is a liminal space between what is and what might be?

I don't have any grand scheme or a vision of what things could be yet. However, I do find the power and cumulative effect of tiny daily acts really incredible. So whether I just put one sock where it belongs or I take the time to figure out better systems so we don't have to constantly be putting away socks, I'm hoping for evolution.

At the very least, there seems to be nothing to lose, except maybe my pride.

I've noticed that sometimes when I work on home organization projects I eventually hit an aha moment that really brings everything together and makes it "work", but I rarely have that piece of insight at the beginning of the project. 

It’s not unlike that moment where after typing eight pages of words for a five-page paper, you finally arrive at your thesis.

With Theo and Cori’s room, I'm starting today at the "prompt" stage. "Design a room that functions well for them and is not an eyesore for everyone else."

(Could teachers be more vague?!?!)

Knowing me, I’m likely to procrastinate and work on three other places of the house, and to my adult self, I’m saying, that’s okay! There’s no judgment! I don’t have to work in a linear way. There’s no deadline, there’s just something I want—a dream, a desire, a hope—and I’m learning that it’s okay to put this stuff out there.

That said, if you have any tips or ideas to solve all my problems, I’m all ears.