Everything But the Kitchen Sink

No, no, we weren’t hit by a tornado, earthquake, or other terribly messy natural disaster. That’s just my bedroom. There’s a hardwood floor under there somewhere. And it’s about time I found it.

I just finished my most-hated chore; cleaning this bomb site I call a room. Even though I’m perfectly content to leave it as is and find things I need when I need them, my mom isn’t happy when she walks by every day, or God forbid, actually needs to go IN. She’s been telling me to clean up for almost a week, and finally I just buckled down and got it done today.

My plan of attack was to start with the clothing, which was about 80 percent of the problem. When I get dressed for work everyday I usually try on at least three outfits before I’m satisfied. Needless to say, the rejected clothes get thrown on the chair, bed, over the edge of the hamper, anywhere but back in the closet or dresser where they belong.

As I sorted what was clean and dirty I found a lot of stuff that doesn’t even belong to me... My brother’s Celtics jersey that I wore for about 3 hours, my mom’s flip flops that I had thought were mine, and about half of my sister’s wardrobe that I had borrowed at some point were all mixed in with the clothes I decided just didn’t feel right that day. I also found three tank tops I bought a week ago and forgot about, my iPod that I’ve been looking for, and a Diet Coke can that I thought I should recycle, but was too lazy to bring downstairs.

Even though I hate cleaning my room, I love finding all the stuff I’d forgotten about. And remembering what my chair, floor, and bedspread look like isn’t bad either. Maybe I’ll try to keep it clean instead of letting it turn into a dreaded project in the first place.

Starting tomorrow, I’m going to put clothes back on the hangers, or just stick with my first choice of outfit. Unless I’m late for work...