Marie Kondo will always be the decluttering goddess to me. She encourages clients to: hold an item in their hands and ask, “Does this spark joy?” If it does, keep it. If it doesn’t, thank it for its service and let it go.
Well, I have a list of things in my home that don’t just fail the joy test—they actively enrage me. And yet… they remain. Some out of necessity, some because of guilt, and some because, apparently, I enjoy suffering.
Welcome to my Anti-Marie Kondo List—a tribute to the items that bring not joy, but rage-fueled muttering under my breath.
1. The “Smart” Devices that are Anything but
I bought a smart speaker so I could feel like I was living in the future. Instead, I live in frustration. "Play 90s R& B" to which it responds "Playing Pop music...." Ugggghhhh. Half the time, it doesn’t hear me. The other half, it misinterprets my requests and blasts music at full volume when all I wanted was some soothing music to keep my day going. If I so much as think about asking it something, it activates at the worst possible moment.
Does it randomly start playing bedtime sound at 8 p.m every night? Yes. I am still trying to figure out how to turn this routine off. Almost useless at this point.
2. The Food Container Cabinet of Chaos
My food container cabinet gets organized, but it takes approximately 4.7 seconds for everything to be completely disorganized. If I lived alone, it would be immaculate, but I have my partner and two broke best friends—my daughters.
Does it spark deep existential dread every time I open it? Absolutely. Absolutely yes.
3. The drawer of mystery cords
At this point, I’m convinced that at least half the cords in my house belong to devices I haven’t owned in years. Phone chargers for phones that no longer exist. Random HDMI cables for… something? A collection of mystery adapters that I might need one day but probably never will.
None of it sparks joy, at all. But do I throw them out? Of course not. What if I suddenly need a charger for my 2012 digital camera?
4. The Throw Blanket Situation
I love a good throw blanket. Something cozy for each family member on those cold nights. Instead, they have become an elaborate obstacle course or my living room floor that must be managed every single day. They also have a habit of disappearing or getting lost in my kids' bedrooms, but can never be in the assigned storage basket that sits next to the sofa. They've now become picnic blankets for the girls for the times when they decide that they don't want to eat at the table. I mean, they save the floor from crumbs, but now have to be washed more than I would like to.
Do they make my couch look aesthetically pleasing? Yes, which is why they remain.
5. The Utensil Drawer Fll of Betrayal
My nitpicking side comes on full display with this drawer. I mean who puts the bowl part of a spoon or the tines of a fork facing the drawer opening rather than away? Someone has to really hate the people they live with to commit such an act of betrayal.
Does it spark joy? No. Does it make me question my life choices every time I need a fork? Yes.
6. The winter coat pile-up on the closet handle
Every winter, I tell myself I'll get better at making sure that the kids follow their routine of hanging their coats without me having to be militant about it. Every winter, we start off well and then fail. Instead of neatly hanging in the closet where they technically belong, coats sometimes end up hanging on the entryway closet or occasionally in a chaotic mound inside the closet. Apparently, getting a hanger for them is too much effort.
At this point, as long as there is only one coat per knob, I am typically fine. If it increases to more than that it sparks a mild rage when I walk past it.
The end result is rage cleaning from the deep-seated frustration.
7. The Shower Curtain That Tries to Kill Me
There is something deeply unsettling about a shower curtain that insists on clinging to you while you’re showering. No matter how I position it, no matter what I do, it will find me. And in that moment, nothing sparks more rage than fighting off a damp, plastic ghost while just trying to get clean.
Does it make me irrationally mad every time it happens? You bet.
I know, I could get rid of some of these things. I could organize things better, maybe. But let’s be real—I share my home with three other humans and I am not about to torment us all in the name of having an aesthetically pleasing home at all times. Our home is meant to be lived in and not a show house, so these infuriating items are part of the fabric of my home. Maybe, just maybe, the rage they spark is a weird kind of joy in itself.
Or maybe I just need to arrange additional appointments with my therapist.
What’s in your home that sparks rage instead of joy? Let me know in the comments so we can suffer together. 😆
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