Putzing
The consistent act of noticing and making small adjustments.
In vogue with a pattern that seems to be happening more and more often, I committed to this newsletter, May I Please Be Excused, and then immediately felt weighted down by the expectation (of my own making) to write about “things that matter” or in the case of the last couple weeks, just simply write at all. Kind of…wanting to be excused.
Should I be recording a voice memo when I think of something relatable? Is there a better way to archive a thought to then be translated into a topic and then written about? Maybe I should take a break.
I’ve noticed this pattern in other areas of my life, too. Thinking about doing something, setting up to do something, making a list about doing something, all before actually just doing something. What is that?
It seems that a lot of creatives or writers go through this same cobweb process. One could definitely argue that the avalanche of distressing information bulldozing you each day rightfully demanding your attention makes it hard to ever get clear enough to focus let alone develop a perspective.
Regardless, here I am writing today. Monday morning on what is a regular work day, but today a holiday, giving my subconscious permission to stop tracking time and do what I want without the trappings of answering emails or pushing forward with a to-do list.
Isn’t it funny how we put ourselves in these boundaries of what we surely can or can’t do based on the world’s completely made up schedule that we so passionately demand to unsubscribe from?
I’ve actually taken this entire weekend “off,” making an agreement with myself that I wouldn’t commit to any (any!) plans. I would stay home and just allow myself to feel through what happens next. It seems so simple and maybe the greatest luxury of a single person without kids or visitors, but as I mentioned, I’m working on giving myself that green light regardless. Sometimes it’s almost like since I don’t have another human to take care of I must be even more productive in other ways because why wouldn’t you be, you have so much free time!
Naturally I began this self-imposed downtime by making a list of chores just in case I ever got bored (I’ve never been bored). I could reference and maybe “get started” on them as they definitely are things that “need” to be done and I’m the only person that is going to do them.
I give myself a pass on this activity because one of my hobbies is making lists. It both gets the nagging out of my head in an organized fashion and serves as a documentation of what’s relevant to me at a certain time.
I can remember when I’ve been journaling away on my self development and then quickly turned the page to methodically list out the by-minute morning routine I would start the next day in order to support said self development. At the time I’d roll my eyes at myself for using the free-writing act of journaling to give myself an assignment, but looking back through those entries the lists are almost like little markers of what I intended to make priority. Hopeful and…motivating?
After working through a few of the weekend’s low-hanging to-do items (water trees, spread wildflowers) I felt a little more at ease to move within my own personal time and space, setting up to relax.
This preparation usually involves putting things away, taking out the compost then washing out the bin, walking Slimes to the beginning of Thelman Road, getting the mail. Seeing where we’re at.
Finally after all that I feel ready to start one of my favorite elements of relaxing - putzing around the house.
According to the online google dictionary, putzing around is to “engage in inconsequential or unproductive activity.” Which correct me if I’m wrong, sounds very much a definition written by capitalism!
Let’s start with how I define putzing.
Putzing is to freely move about your home space without real direction or task. At best this is a flow state where a whole day can be spent going from this to that, breaking for a little snack, to rest your eyes or read a few pages. I challenge you to think of something more consequential.
Putzing around could look like getting a drink of water, remembering you had a half of lemon, adding that. Refill the water filter. Walk over to the glass door, open it and realize it’s not that hot yet, there’s actually a nice little cool vibe. So go around opening the windows and other doors, light some incense as now there’s a cross-breeze. Catch and release a fly that got in. Grab your water and go outside to sit and get some sun on your face. Spend a few — twenty — minutes taking in the surroundings, note how much seed the birds have eaten, the new growth on the tomato plants since last night. Look over to the herb barrel where the tulsi is taking over the basil, decide to make some tulsi sun tea. Go inside, get the scissors, come out and carefully cut the largest sprigs, removing any little weeds you see popping up. Add some camomile since you’re over there. Wash the herbs, fill a pitcher with water, set it out in the sun. Think about when it last rained and when it might rain. Throw the dog poop into the woods. Maybe sweep the deck or take a walk around the yard to see if the baby birds have flown their nests yet, pick any raspberries that have ripened. Go back inside, wash the raspberries, wash out the coffee from the morning, wipe down the counter, note how many more dishes go in the dishwasher before you run it. Maybe start a load of wash. Bring some more toilet paper upstairs, empty the dryer’s lint trap. Repeat repeat repeat until reading hour at 3. Underline May Sarton. Look up youtube videos of May Sarton reading poems. Google where May Sarton is buried, make a mental note to visit her grave on the way to visit your aunt. Cocktail hour at 4, dinner at 5:30, back to reading at 7. Very slow, very deliberate, very directionless (besides the cocktail hour).
The consistent act of noticing and making small adjustments.
This I could do all day for days on end. Few things are more satisfying than subconsciously taking inventory, easily moving (floating?!) around without an agenda.
You’ll notice there is no mention of checking Instagram or going to Lowes for the squirrel baffle or really doing much of what is on my weekend to-do list.
Putzing is all about operating in a way that’s both present and oblivious.
That’s how you see those little things like the overgrown tulsi, and that’s how there’s enough room in your brain to think to make the tea.
Because I live alone (you could say we’re never alone, but I’ll spare you that tangent today) the more time I spend by myself in my house, the more distance I get between here and the machine of thought, the more enjoyable putzing is.
The below from the book Too Much and Not in the Mood by Durga Chew-Bose touches on what many might view as mundane, boring, or insignificant but after sitting with yourself for so long, the absolute vividness that starts to reveal itself in those grooves made only by putzing.
“I count living alone as, in a manner of speaking, finding interest in my own story, of prospering, of creating a space where I repeat the same actions every day, whetting them, rearranging them, starting from scratch but with variables I can control, or conversely, eagerly appeal to their chaos.”
I would offer that anyone can carve out the space to putz. Prioritize the putz! Sure this means you won’t do other things, likely won’t experience all that is available to you outside your property. You won’t see everything, you won’t see everyone. But it also means your brain will get a chance to operate on autopilot, working things out in the background as you lounge in different seats.
By day four I start to feel more like myself again. I notice things like the orange iris on the side of the road on the way to Lowes. I think about whether the woman in line in front of me picked out that specific floral bathing suit top to wear under her tank top today, or if she just wears it all the time like that in place of a bra. It is pretty hot out. Maybe she’s yet to do wash.