I’m a proud putterer.
My favorite kind of days are the ones where I can amble from room to room, task to task, feel like I’m slooooowly getting everything done, and become quietly inspired along the way. If I don’t have to get dressed, awesome. If there’s nothing urgent on the schedule, even awesomer.
It’s not laziness- not entirely- and not antisocial behavior- pretty much not entirely- instead, it’s a reveling in the ability to organize, perch on the corner of a sofa and read that passage you’d been meaning to revisit, sift through boardgames with the hopes of donating the majority (only to end up playing a full-contact game of Candyland with interested passersby), stain that shelf that’s been begging for it, decide that the room’s Feng Shui is off, completely upend the whole shebang, and love the finished area so much that you serve an impromptu picnic on that room’s floor for dinner.
If any involved parties end up being surprised a nap, then it becomes the best day of puttering in the history of ever.
When I was a little kid, I loved rearranging my room, getting caught up in self-created projects, and finding tiny ways to fix “problems” throughout the day. (“How to best arrange porcelain dolls above my bed” was a typical “problem.”) I could- and still do- spend hours creating lovely spaces in my dollhouses (yes, plural), forgoing actual dolls or tiny people in those spaces for the joy of just playing with the furnishings. My room was my kingdom. No matter what else was going on in my life, I could always create a sense of order for myself by stacking the pillows by size and keeping my troll dolls face-forward.
It’s no stretch to see how this has carried itself into my present day life. My therapist has told me that it’s part n’ parcel with control issues (I told her that I’ll be the one to decide who has the control issues, thankyouverymuch) but we both agree it’s good to sometimes arrange the ol’ dollhouse, you know?
“I think you’re doing just fine. No, really.”
A surprising benefit to this- which I’ll totally take credit for- is how my kids have fallen down the puttering hole as well. After a long and fun and completely chaotic weekend, we/I had decided to take this morning to set things to rights. Nora, after sorting through Mount St. Magazine Pile for recycling, curled up on the couch with a stack of Highlights that she’d “been meaning to get around to.” Susannah finished making her bed and realized that the smoothed area was just perfect for the jewelry box she’d wanted to play with. And after I’d cleaned out Jasper’s closet, it occurred to him that he could sit there quietly without any sisters jumping on him. Which yes, sure, is slightly depressing activity and part of the story BUT MY POINT IS that the act of puttering creates while it clears.
And if fifteen minutes of self-sustained quietude is the end result, then party on, Wayne.
Quietly.
You don’t want to disturb the baby in the closet.
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