On Swedish Death Cleaning

Came across the interesting concept of Döstädning, the art of Swedish Death Cleaning.

Don't remember how I came across it. Either Ms. Muse alerted me to it or one of the eight loyal readers of this blog picked up on some anecdote I made last week. In any case it resonated, because as of late, whether I knew it or not, I have been disposing of stuff -- Döstädning. 

With a similar regularity to my consumption of creamed herring in a jar, a delicacy I believe comes from Sweden.

I may be a little premature on the death part of this equation, I don't plan on dying anytime soon, despite my creaky and painful joints and tendons. But I am getting serious about the cleaning part. 

Did a little digging into the Döstädning phenomena and it turns out, genteel and considerate elderly parents in Sweden conduct the massive sweep of their abodes and dispose of their disposables in order to spare their grown children, many of whom probably have back back pain like myself, of the burden when they have taken the next step in their mortal journey.

That plays no part in my current endeavors, none. 

I love my daughters and have provided for them in all manner possible. They in turn have still not learned to make their beds, put away their shoes or do the dishes. Payback can be a bitch.

The truth of the matter is, I don't have the real estate in my brain to keep track of all the stuff I find in this massive (for one person) 2400 square foot house. Until I downsize my home, I have to downsize the detritus of my 67 years on the planet. 

Just off my left shoulder, pinned to the door of my armoire/writing desk, I have an assortment of stuff that means nothing to nobody. 

There's a Media Lanyard from that time I went to Las Vegas to interview Top 20 College Basketball coaches for a Stand up to Cancer documentary. The film blew chunks (college b-ball coaches are not the most interesting men on the planet) but it was a fun boondoggle.

There's a photo of me and a 100 lbs. Chimpanzee from an Earthlink TV shoot (I'm the one on the left.)

And if you look closely there's a string attached to two nails. I had a brain fart and couldn't remember what the hell that was. Then recalled how I surreptitiously lifted it from a pre-production 3D model of an Acura commercial I wrote about a dozen years ago.

https://youtu.be/odszX23uE3s?si=Fj6HQ03RlcSAI4Ew

Why is it in my house? My daughters don't know what half this stuff is. And now that they are in the business they're completely unimpressed by it all. It's all destined for the landfill in Hesperia. Why delay the delivery? 

So while most of you are enjoying your extended break from work, I've decided to take the next ten days off from writing R17 posts. And get down to the serious business of Döstädning. 

As well as the consumption of Lasco's finest creamed herring, an acquired taste, at best.

Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, and Happy New Year.