For many of us, the bi-annual change of seasons is like Mother Nature’s reproving reminder to clean our room, already. Around here, we’re reorganizing everything for the End of Warm and the Beginning of Cold: tank tops go away, sweaters come out; bug spray goes away, boot rack comes out; school nurse’s hand-out-about-tick-removal-and-Lyme-Disease-on-the-refrigerator comes down, school nurse’s handout-about-flu-symptoms-and-hand-washing goes up.
In the midst of all this transition, it usually seems to me like a good time to take stock and get rid of stuff I don’t need. If you know me, then you know that I’m a well-established pack rat, and Stuff-I-Don’t-Need is my middle name. After visiting the houses of some of my relatives I can confirm with confidence that I come by this genetically. In fact, it is only through sheer force of will and the specter of an imaginary Martha Stewart tsk-ing over my shoulder, that I manage to have a home that does not resemble that of the infamous brothers who made tunnels through the piles of newspapers in their house until the day a landslide killed one of them.
(These are the things I think about when I’m perusing my large and extensive collection of rah-rah clutter-busting books with chapter titles like “Simplify your Spice Cabinet!” and “Magazines Aren’t for Keeping, you Know!” and “You Know You’ll Never Learn to Quilt So Get Over it Already!”) Continue reading Our Communal Closet