Cleaning Out My Closet

Moving has been, and still is, an adventure and a half. I moved out of my house in the Loo about three weeks ago, but I've spent so much time away from home in M-town that I'm still not fully unpacked and settled in. I went from living in a room that was filled with personality like this:

 
 

To dealing with this:

 

It's funny, the more things I packed up and took out of that room, the smaller it seemed to be. When it was full of my stuff it seemed so much bigger; it had the capacity to hold my life in there. Funny how emptiness shrinks things. I painted those walls a retina-burning bright green. I spent an hour picking out those curtains. I assembled the desk and those bookshelves. I put up those posters and photos. I hung those mirrors. I made one room in an entire house my home. Here in M-town I still have the decor that my 15 year old self thought was awesome: puppy and butterfly curtains, heart decals, daises. Oh cluttered but sophisticated Room in the Loo, I miss you.

The one thing I managed to do almost immediately when I came back to my parents' place was clear off my desk and set up my computer and put away my clothes. The rest of my stuff sits in boxes and I rummage through them whenever I need anything. Just yesterday I unpacked my books and that in itself was a task and a half. How is it possible that I have so many books (over seven boxes!)? I don't even read.

For those of y'all that know me, you know that I'm a Pack Rat of the most obsessive and unhealthy variety. My Need To Keep Everything version of OCD is most evident not in the lecture notes and academic journal articles from two years ago, not in the dried roses from I-don't-even-know-how-long-ago-or-who-even-gave-them-to-me, nor in my collection of old toothbrushes or various strings that I found tucked away in a little basket; bits of yarn, embroidery threads, lengths of ribbons and a shoestring.

My greatest shame is not in these pants (what was I thinking?!), not in the braided lengths of fake blue and red hair, not in the bits of green sponge, nor is it in the 2002 calendar I have on my wall or the 1998 bus route map that I found on my bookshelf (the 1999 edition was safely tucked away in a backpack in my closet). There were piles of junk here, here and here. There were bits of wood, and a box of plastic (rain bonnet, cellophane wrapping, grocery bags). Projects from Grade 5 Math, Grade 8 Tech and Grade 9 English.

My greatest shame - not the tin foil hat from my 16th birthday, not the mass of elastic bands that I carefully crafted into sturdy rope for Jumpsies (did ANYONE ever play that during recess?) - but this:



A plastic bag filled with bus transfers.

I can't answer any of your questions, except maybe the WHY? question. The answer is obvious: BECAUSE I'M CRAZY. Oh, the insights gained when a pack rat cleans out her closet.

I have a hard time getting rid of things and especially throwing things away (can you tell?), but since I've moved I've gotten rid of piles and piles of clothing (people with large closets are practically naked next to me*), bags and bags of old junk aka garbage, and towers of recyclables. It was hard throwing away things from my past because I have this obsessive need to cling to Everything That Was, but I said I was going to dabble in some change, so this can be seen as Step Two of Project Cutting the Crap.

*Quotable Quotes from Annia.
4:57 pm