Clutter can clog a house, an office, a car or a mind. However, like anything else, it’s not all bad.
Clutter serves a purpose. It can bring comfort, jog memories, remind us that we exist, or conceal an issue we aren’t ready to address. When we recognize its purpose, that’s the right time to clear it out; if we try before that, it will probably return.
But when clutter turns into a bad clog, there’s no avoiding “the fix.” You have to excavate. If it’s a mental or emotional clog, a therapist can help. Mine was physical. Below, in photos and captions, my New-Year clearing-out and other ruminations, plus a few history lessons.
Drain clogs are common in my old townhouse. Normally, the baking soda-and-vinegar solution, combined with vigorous plunging, does the trick. But this time, I had to reach beyond my comfort zone and into a mechanical solution. Turns out an auger isn’t expensive and quite easy to use! Unscrewing the cover of the overflow was the hardest part. Pulling out 15 feet of snake with the clog at the end took some muscle, too. I’m a small woman who is now classified as “senior,” so clearing it myself felt satisfying. It’s important to know when to hire a plumber–or a therapist–but it’s fulfilling when you can solve it yourself.
Sometimes, someone else’s clutter disrupts your peace, or view. This construction clutter at the White House, seen from the top of the Washington Monument, replaces the former East Wing. I once worked (briefly) inside the East Wing and the speed of its demolition saddened me. It was built in 1902, so not part of the original building, but still held historic significance. The speed of change in 2025 was dizzying as America “hired” someone to do wholesale decluttering of the federal government. When someone with power decides to “declutter” your life for you, it can be jarring — especially when that so-called clutter was your meaningful life’s work.
Speaking of my life’s work. The Eisenhower Executive Office Building (EEOB) sits next to the White House, part of its secure complex. (I also worked here, for six months.) It’s not scheduled for demolition, but the Chief Executive wants to paint it white. It was renamed in 1999 to honor President Eisenhower. Before WWII, it housed the War Department. It won’t be renamed now, but the Department of Defense has been renamed the Department of War. Re-naming seems a bit like symbolic de-cluttering…removing evidence of past decisions. And since we aren’t currently at war, I don’t get it. (Then again, maybe we are. As I write this, we’ve struck Venezuela. Supposedly over drug trafficking, but, um…oil? Hmm.)
My townhouse is, like the EEOB and White House, on the National Register of Historic Places because it was built for Pentagon workers during WWII. I’m restricted in what I can do to it, but am allowed to replace windows, which occurred last month. I hope these new windows of my office will warm that cold room and thus help me solve my own “clutter problem” — paperwork. My life’s history and career accomplishments sit in folders there, and it’s hard to toss the evidence that I once made a difference.
When decluttering becomes stressful, it’s time to step away and take a break. A holiday-week trip to the Pacific NW provided that. Mount Baker on a clear day wipes away all but the “wow.”
The Pacific NW is normally clouded in winter but the morning sun broke through long enough for a peak at the San Juan Islands from the shore of Lummi Island. Mental decluttering!
For even more mental clearing, I hiked to this overlook in the Baker Preserve. More “wow.”
I end this post with another view from the top of the Washington Monument. That’s the WWII memorial in the foreground and the Lincoln Memorial in front of it, on the other end of the reflecting pool. The city of Arlington, where I live, is on the opposite side of the Potomac River. This was my first time going up the iconic monument after 36 years here. While the tourists saw a cityscape, I saw decades of fulfilling work — and also play.
As we “seniors” approach the last phase of life, we ponder what impact, examples, or clutter we will leave behind — as I did while walking this snowy path on Lummi Island a week ago. My professional impact has been much diminished by recent Executive Branch decisions, but I hope my example will survive awhile among those I mentored or led. As I write this rumination, I realize it’s time to declutter my mind from all the rest and focus on being a good example. Simply a good person. Kind and honest. Time to declutter! I’m ready.
For Many Moons 
Powerful…and perfect for contemplation at the beginning of the New Year. Thanks, Mary!
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