Every couple months I stay home for the weekend and tell myself I'm going to do a deep cleaning. I usually don't get past the dishes and laundry. If it's a good day I might donate some books to Goodwill, or arrange my cds. Every year or so I make it deep into the laundry room, or ransack the drawers full of items I once thought might be useful, or clean out clothes that have gone out of and won't ever return to style.
But not once since I have moved in have I tackled the closet. It's too dangerous, and the danger has only grown over time.
At first I stored boxes with old photos, letters, college papers ... and the only danger was nostalgia. I'll save the reminiscing for when the doctor says it's terminal & my tomorrows have run out. Otherwise, it's too easy to get trapped in the past. The closet was also a good place for camping equipment. And luggage. And cooking utensils that I thought I absolutely needed but rarely used. And cat food. And emergency supplies. And tools.
In time it became super-saturated. I would only use what was on the surface (cat food and a cuisinart). Everything else was in too deep. I know I have a hammer in there, but it became easier to use a poi pounder to pound nails into the wall than attempt to find the hammer.
Today I took it on. Today I went deep. I started in the laundry room. That took most of the day. It was getting super-saturated too, and you needed intuitive knowledge to pass through there alive. I mailed off two boxes to Roy, and condensed the rest into three. There were two very large boxes of trash, dated stereo equipment from three generation of housemates, dishes from upstairs (who eats when they do laundry???), empty vodka bottles from ---, and a collection of electric toys from Paulo's brief and failed stint as an erotic masseur.
I made it to Goodwill twenty minutes before they closed, with two boxes of books, two boxes of clothes, and the aforementioned speakers and toys. I'll need to go and see if those make it on the shelf.
And the closet is now empty and scattered across the house. I've collected an additional box of junk, but decided not to open the box full of letters and photos and cards. Soon I'll dump my shelves onto the floor. I'm in a throwing out kind of mood.
It's all tonight, 'cause there's no time tomorrow. Paddle at 8am, then Allen and I go shopping for the Carb Loading dinner. I still need to make my menu. Then nap, a final meal, a run with the Swamp Pigs, and then I'll meet Renee and David, head to a pre-party at Doug Simonson's, and then end the night (and dance until morning) at Big Tom's party.
I'm using the party as my excuse to clean. I want to come back to a sparkling house in the morning, especially if the others are too trashed to drive and I have to host.
The wine of the evening: Birbet Mosto d"Uva Parzialmente Fermentato, a sparkling red from Italy. It's pretty awesome - it tastes like a prosecco mixed with ripe berries. It might be my new favorite dessert wine.
But not once since I have moved in have I tackled the closet. It's too dangerous, and the danger has only grown over time.At first I stored boxes with old photos, letters, college papers ... and the only danger was nostalgia. I'll save the reminiscing for when the doctor says it's terminal & my tomorrows have run out. Otherwise, it's too easy to get trapped in the past. The closet was also a good place for camping equipment. And luggage. And cooking utensils that I thought I absolutely needed but rarely used. And cat food. And emergency supplies. And tools.
In time it became super-saturated. I would only use what was on the surface (cat food and a cuisinart). Everything else was in too deep. I know I have a hammer in there, but it became easier to use a poi pounder to pound nails into the wall than attempt to find the hammer.
Today I took it on. Today I went deep. I started in the laundry room. That took most of the day. It was getting super-saturated too, and you needed intuitive knowledge to pass through there alive. I mailed off two boxes to Roy, and condensed the rest into three. There were two very large boxes of trash, dated stereo equipment from three generation of housemates, dishes from upstairs (who eats when they do laundry???), empty vodka bottles from ---, and a collection of electric toys from Paulo's brief and failed stint as an erotic masseur.
I made it to Goodwill twenty minutes before they closed, with two boxes of books, two boxes of clothes, and the aforementioned speakers and toys. I'll need to go and see if those make it on the shelf.
And the closet is now empty and scattered across the house. I've collected an additional box of junk, but decided not to open the box full of letters and photos and cards. Soon I'll dump my shelves onto the floor. I'm in a throwing out kind of mood.
It's all tonight, 'cause there's no time tomorrow. Paddle at 8am, then Allen and I go shopping for the Carb Loading dinner. I still need to make my menu. Then nap, a final meal, a run with the Swamp Pigs, and then I'll meet Renee and David, head to a pre-party at Doug Simonson's, and then end the night (and dance until morning) at Big Tom's party.
I'm using the party as my excuse to clean. I want to come back to a sparkling house in the morning, especially if the others are too trashed to drive and I have to host.
The wine of the evening: Birbet Mosto d"Uva Parzialmente Fermentato, a sparkling red from Italy. It's pretty awesome - it tastes like a prosecco mixed with ripe berries. It might be my new favorite dessert wine.
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