Before marriage, I was always hearing the phrase, "Don't bring baggage with you into the marriage!" I thought to myself, "Great! I don't really have any emotional issues, so I'm just peachy!"
Now, I'm wondering if those advisors were being a little more... literal.
A year and a half ago, my husband and I joined hearts, hands, and lives, as well as all of our random college-life paraphernalia and boxes of junk from our childhood bedrooms. I was suddenly the proud new co-owner of a HUGE Rubbermaid container literally bursting with clothes, a Darth Vader costume, and a large collection of random glass bottles that DH to this day refuses to part with; and DH, I'm sure, felt that he had moved into a Jo-Ann Fabrics store/Obscure-BookWorld.
The Monster was born.
We consolidated our things the best we could as we set up house. We live in a one-bedroom 705-sq. ft. apartment, so our bedroom became a sleeping area, sewing room, library, study area, and general storage area. We crammed everything in as best as we could and went on with life.
Meanwhile, throughout the first eight months or so, our families and friends sent us a large volume of boxes full of goodies as well as random junk. Not quite sure what to do with all this stuff, we stashed it under the bed, promising to "go through it later". Little did we know that we were inadvertently feeding a Monster.
Christmas came and went. Birthdays came and went. The monster under our bed started creeping out and even sprouted a couple of clones in the corner and the closet. We got cats, who spent many delightful hours romping under the bed, pulling things out of boxes and gleefully doing the Monster's bidding.
Finally everything came to a head the other week when I realized that I hated stepping on Christmas ornaments first thing every morning (that's just not quite the way I like to feel the Christmas spirit).
So last week, I just went in and decluttered a corner. Nothing too big. The Monster barely stirred. The next day, I cleaned out my dresser. Again, just a little baby step. The day after that, I sorted through a chest. The past few days, I've been under the bed, just doing one box a day.
Inch by inch, the Monster is shrinking. I have carted out two bags full of trash and a box full of give-away stuff. Sometimes, when I'm going through things, the Monster whispers insidious things in my ear like, "But that was your mom's sweater in high school! Shouldn't you keep it, even though it has a huge tear in the arm?" or, "But you've only had those magazines for a year! Maybe you'll read them next year!" I smile in his direction and chuck the offending item in the trash.
I purposely didn't clean up all the visible mess before starting on the deep-cleaning, because I still need a visual reminder to get some work done, so the bedroom still doesn't look very impressive. I'm still a loooong way off from Martha Stewart clean. However, I have already found many treasures:
- $39 cash
- The tweezers I have been tearing apart the house for
- Nine ponytail elastics (I was down to one)
- This awesome book on homemade stuff (underneath a pile of magazines in a box sent by family)
- Also underneath that pile of magazines, a wedding-gift check for a good sum of money. And it was expired. I wanted to jump in a lake.
So that is what is going on with my bedroom now. I'll keep you posted!