The other day I heard the term “doom box” for the first time. It describes something I'm well acquainted with: when someone doesn't have the time or mental bandwidth to deal with clutter, so they clear off a table top, bed, or car seat by dumping it into a box. Doom stands for Didn't Organize, Only Moved.
When I find one of my dad's doom boxes that dates from before I was born and has somehow managed to get shuffled around without being dealt with, I prefer to pretend I’ve just found one of Andy Warhol's time capsules rather than a sign that I’m destined to need to shovel him out of piles of magazines one day. It is a lot of fun to go through the detritus of decades ago, with napkins from long closed takeout joints and ticket stubs unlocking forgotten memories.
In Clutter: An Untidy History, Jennifer Howard refers to doom as churn, where things get shuffled through and moved around without being culled and curated or put away. Getting stuck with dealing with her mother’s accumulation was so bad, it was unimaginable that anyone else could be going through this. Of course, she quickly discovered that a lot of people are going through it, or have, or know they will.
Most people with doom boxes don’t raise health and safety concerns. Doom boxes and churn are a symptom of overwhelm. When people struggle with decision making — or simple lack of time! — things pile up. When those piles need to be hidden they end up in doom boxes. When people aren't able to sort through things, things get moved around rather than dealt with.
I’m not one to sweep the detritus on top of my desk into a drawer. It’s not paperwork and household matter out of place that leaves me feeling overwhelmed. It’s the psychological stuff that I tend to find overwhelming.
I have no problem finding time to decide which receipts to scan and which to discard. It’s making sense of things and sorting through my feelings that I don’t always make time for. That’s the stuff that might end up in a box for some day that might never come. It’s the mental clutter that I’m apt to churn, picking it up and rearranging it without actually doing anything about it.
Both types of doom box take time to unpack. It’s the sort of thing I find is best done with company. I can help a friend talk through what to keep and what to toss. I can rehome things and I trust that there’s always someone who will spot something left on the curb. As a third party to their paperwork, I have the distance to help them figure out what to do with it. I like hearing the stories and even some of the excuses. It’s the same sort of warm and firm company I need to deal with the things I have to sort through.
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I love the term...boy can I relate on every level. The amount of stuff I have to bring home from my move is outrageous. I don't want to throw things out (like full bottles of dishwashing detergent) if I'd just have to buy it again. What a waste of money. But duplicates everywhere now. And overwhelm with the lawyer and timing and what everybody wants except me! I love this piece (not that I don't love most of them).