Clump # 258: Thirty minutes worth of bedroom de-clumping; day sixteen of National Blog Posting Month.
Above, the thistle, thorny bane of most gardeners’ existence. Pull it up and it roars back tenfold. Good symbol for today’s job: the clumps I have never been able to eradicate from so many sweeping-ups of other areas in the house. Somehow they always land in our bedroom, where guests won’t see. But what does it do to our psyches that the place where my husband and I live and sleep is our dumping ground?
It changes today. I set the timer for a half an hour. Believe it or not, the piles below have a certain logic.
Most appallingly old? Girl Scout paraphernalia from when I was scout leader for my older daughter’s troop. I always imagined myself donating it all back to the place where I purchased it, but today I stuffed it in a Goodwill donation bag. Phew. I hope some other mom or girl will appreciate it.
I want to say … “See? All gone!” but I still have pesky remnants to contend with for another–long–day. But at least this area looks better:
These three remotes have been waiting to go to the recycling place at Best Buy for way too long, caught in the stuck energy of all this stuff. Well, they’re out of here now.
This clipped Cryptoquote solution came fluttering out at one point.
A nod to imperfection that tamed, somewhat, my bubbling self-recrimination and gave me hope for imperfectly cleared space beyond.
Your post today reminds me of the first time that I visited my daughter’s dorm room. At home, her room was not the neatest in the world. We got to her room at school and it was neat as a pin. I commented on how nice it was. Her reply: “Mom, I live here”!
Ha! That’s great. She’s got her priorities straight!