Tip: The Waystation

Waystation:    a stopping point on a journey
                       a minor station on a railroad

In my childhood home, our staircase served as a waystation. For stuff. As ‘a stopping point on a journey’ to each item’s designated place. My items and my brothers’ to be specific.

In the evenings after dinner, when I’d head upstairs, piles were stacked on the first few steps – our shoes and books, backpacks and sundry items. Items we had strewn about upon our return from school. Items that my father – poor guy – stumbled over upon his return from a long day’s work. Our stuff belonged in our rooms, and he helped us return them by placing them in direct site as we journeyed upstairs. If I’m being honest here, this habit of his annoyed me like no other. But if I’m being really REALLY honest, everything annoyed me as an angsty teen (who’s with me?).

Welp, that angsty teen grew up to be her father’s daughter. After many years living in small quarters, she moved into a two-story house with her man (and a child on the way). She grew up to be way way WAY tidier than her dad. And I’ll be damned if the staircase isn’t used in the exact same way by this, the grown-up angsty teen.

In our new home (just like our old one), everything has a place and there is a place for everything. But now when something is used and needs returning, there might be a longer distance (a longer journey, if you will) to travel. Never before in my adult life have I had so much space to trek in my home. 

And I have an infant on my hip.
And its 2:00 and I haven’t eaten yet, let’s say. So getting The Thing to its place isn’t top priority.
And here’s the curve ball, I am going to forget to return The Thing. I’m going to forget the moment I set it down.
And I’ll go upstairs - to change a diaper, let’s say - and The Thing remains downstairs. And when I come back downstairs, I’ll see The Thing - staring at me, taunting me even - but I won't be in a position to run back upstairs just to put it away because now the baby needs to be fed. 
And feeding a hungry child trumps tidiness, even with The Thing taunting me.
And slowly, slowly, slowly, The Thing has become A Bunch of Stuff plunked down everywhere but where it belongs.

So while I still have a habit of picking up at the end of the day, I’ve found that having a waystation is essential for order to win out over chaos. 

I love the quote my friend (and former Interviewee), Allie, uses: Why put it down when you can put it away? I think of it often. It’s motivational to this minimalist. But sometimes I have to put ‘it’ down for a bit. Without a waystation, I forget the laundry is downstairs until I’m upstairs; I forget I have a new tube of toothpaste until I – exhausted and ready to crumble into bed – reach for my toothbrush and realize, yes I did buy more paste but JEEZ LOUISE now I have to haul butt downstairs to grab it; I forget the bills that need filing up in the file cabinet, so they accrue on the countertop.

It’s the little things that add up. Lord knows, these are what I refer to as Cadillac problems. Messiness. Let’s throw out a big thank you for having a roof over my head and money to buy toothpaste and pay my bills. But this is blog about an organized approach to the art of simple, stylish living, and a waystation helps me achieve just that.

So to recap: How do I keep a house tidy when it's the least pressing priority of the moment? I create a waystation for items that have been used and need returning. I collect a pile – either at the top (for items that live downstairs) or the bottom (for items that live upstairs) – which I can grab when I’m heading up or down, respectively. I’m not making extra trips up and down, I’m collecting the strays for the moment when I have to go up or down, and I then bring those items with me, and they return home. I’m placing them where that my eyes will see them, because my mind will not remember without a visual cue. Designating a waystation in my home – that’s highly trafficked and relatively central – I’m going out on a limb to say it’s a gamechanger.

Don't have a staircase? Designate a chair or bar stool as your waystation. Something on the way to another section of your space. Or, better yet, tell me what you do to keep everything in its place in the comments below.