Procrastination clutter isn’t about guilt or sentiment—it’s about that shower curtain you shoved under the sink because you didn’t want to deal with it. In this episode, I share the saga of my old iron-stained shower curtain, the hilarious ways procrastination shows up in everyday life, and why Chad’s teenage boys could win medals in the sport of “doing it later.” If you’ve ever avoided tossing something because it felt like “too much,” this one’s for you. We’ll talk about how procrastination clutter piles up, the stress it creates, and a few quick hacks to finally deal with it. Until then, ask yourself… do I really need that?
Hello, hello—welcome to Keep or Toss.
Quick disclaimer: this morning I choked on my own spit in the bathroom, thought I was going to die, and now my throat’s been scratchy ever since. So if I clear my throat a hundred times—sorry, not sorry.
Today’s Keep or Toss is my old shower curtain and shower liner. Out here in the country we’ve got a lot of iron in the water, so my shower liners don’t last long before turning yellow and gross. Even the curtain itself, which is still in good condition, ends up with that big orange stain at the bottom that drives me nuts.
So, I bought a new one. Easy, right? Well, here’s the problem—the old one. At first, I wadded it up and threw it in the bathroom trash. Then I realized it was taking up too much space. So I pulled it out, folded it, and… then felt weird about folding a shower curtain just to toss it. So where did it end up? Under the sink.
That’s procrastination clutter. Not guilt clutter, not sentimental clutter. Just plain avoidance.
And the truth is—we all have this kind of clutter. Tupperware without lids. Rusty pans. Cardboard that needs to be broken down. Mail stacked on the counter. It’s not that you care about the item, it’s that dealing with it feels like a hassle.
For me, I can trace the whole thought spiral:
If I put the curtain in the kitchen trash, the bag will be full.
If the bag’s full, I’ll have to take it out.
If I take it out, I’ll want it really full, so I’ll grab other trash cans.
Then I’ll need to tie it up, haul it out, and replace all the liners.
By the time I run through all those steps in my head, my brain goes: nope. Under the sink you go.
And that’s how procrastination clutter takes hold.
It might seem small, but the cost is big. It becomes visual stress. Every time you see it, you’re reminded of the task. It takes up space under the sink, in closets, in drawers. Sometimes it even takes over your shower. (Confession: at one point I had four upside-down liter bottles of conditioner in mine because I didn’t want to deal with pouring out the last bit. That’s not guilt. That’s procrastination.)
And let’s not forget—the masters of procrastination clutter are teenagers. Chad has two boys at home, and watching them is like watching my shower curtain saga in human form.
Trash night? “Yeah, in a minute.”
Shoes in the trough? “I might go outside later.”
Dishwasher? Suddenly they have a laundry list of urgent tasks. But if you say, “Want to go scouting up the road?”—they’re in the truck in three seconds flat.
Meanwhile, I’m in the background trying not to laugh, because it’s the same story: avoid it now, deal with the mess later.
But here’s the deal: procrastination clutter adds up. Trash piles up, dishes stack in the sink, shoes cover the entryway. Everyday useful things become clutter when they aren’t put where they belong.
So how do we fight it?
Grab a trash bag and do a quick sweep. Even if it’s not full, toss it.
Pair decluttering with habits—like replacing my shower curtain every time I deep-clean the bathroom.
And the two-minute rule: if it takes less than two minutes to deal with, just do it.
So today, the old shower curtain and liner are heading to the trash. No guilt, no emotions, just one less piece of clutter in my home.
What procrastination item are you going to tackle today?
