In the last few years, my family has had to clean some spaces that belonged to members who were, to put it kindly, a little deranged. I didn't participate personally in these cleaning orgies, but I heard the tales. Rooms flooded with piles of newspapers stacked under mattresses, with human ashes, old receipts from 20 years ago, defunct electronics, loose change, girly magazines, old bills, piles of books and dust that had been undisturbed since the last century.
As I was carefully picking my way across my room yesterday I realized that I might have, um, inherited some tendencies towards slovenliness. Clean laundry mingled with my rising frustration at not getting any progress made on my art projects. My drafting table was swamped under rubber supplies and open bottles of oil. Dust bunnies were mounting open rebellions in the corners and I felt more and more powerless. I wanted to flee the dark, cold cave it had become.
I often complain about how disorganized I am, and when I do, Eleven gently points me towards FlyLady. I finally poked around the website a little, and read the article about cleaning the sink. Somehow, while my sink is still supporting an active compost culture, it was enough to galvanize me towards getting the drafting table set up to support some comic-action. Yee Haw.
From the Outside In
There is a mystical connection between my room and my brain. Since I have purged and straightened things up, I feel much calmer, I have caught up on my correspondence, framed a bunch of photos, which are now gracing my wall, and I don't feel restless at all. I love my room, I want to stay.
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9 comments:
"human ashes"?
Like, just, laying around?
I think they were in a container and they were under his bed.
yes, the "human ashes" ingredient quite intrigued me as well. Anne Lamott put her mother's ashes in the back of her closet because she was angry at her.
Ooh, I remember that bit of Plan B book. Just one more reason to figure out how not to hate your mother... who wants ashes in their closet?
eleven
Nothing like a clean room!
my personal favorite is when the clean clothes to be put away mingles with the dirty clothes on the floor and you have to stoop to a smell test to see what goes where. I love my spouse but there are some parts of his clothes that I do not relish sniffing.
There is a mystical connection between my room and my brain.
Yes, exactly. I'm relieved the see someone else exploring this. I haven't quite worked up the courage yet, but you inspire me.
Chiefbiscuit sent me here after she discovered we'd both written about fly lady. So happy to have discovered you! Especially love your final paragraph.
welcome!
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