Bag it all.

The thing is, I never really had a concept of myself as a particularly tidy person. And in fact I am probably not particularly tidy. In my nuclear family of origin, I may have ranked 5th out of 5 in terms of neatness, or it may just be that I’m comparing myself in an out-of-proportion way to a sister who had her awards neatly pinned in a line, her bed made daily, and her closet negotiable, whereas my room tended more toward being a victim of entropy.

Still, there existed a critical threshold of disorder at which I’d be distracted enough to mount a thorough cleaning initiative. Then, I’d spend a day or two strolling into my room and thinking how nice before entropy would gain another foothold.

I seem to have spawned at least a couple or so kids who don’t have that built-in threshold tripping their straightening instinct (those who do have such a thing may protest below.) Instead, piles of discarded garments, strewn in random fashion, do NOT cause them any apparent consternation, nor does a bathroom countertop cluttered liberally with empty face-wash tubes, smudges of toothpaste and other goo, and clothing tags which have been cleft from new items only to become decoupaged, by soap and shampoo, to the sink or its environs.

Their stuff tries to grow. As stuff goes, their stuff has a real empire-building inclination and tries, not infrequently, to assert squatters’ rights in the kitchen and entryway. I beat it back, with greater or lesser gusto depending on mood, but hold my turf all in all, leaving their bedrooms to roil like Calcutta on a busy day. Or at least that’s what I presume happens when no one’s looking, given the seemingly random distribution of objects.

I can’t remember where I was going with this. Oh, right...my attempt to help. At present, in the upstairs hallway, (the one with eight or so paint swatches on the wall, waiting—years—for me to hire a painter...we all have our issues,) I’ve taped two signs to the perpendicular walls of a corner. One says “give away,” and the other says “throw away.” Conveniently located nearby sits a box of jumbo sized black garbage bags for filling. So far, at least somebody has taken a little advantage and produced a few bags which I’ve helpfully carted to the Goodwill truck or dumpster.

It is my hope that by encouraging this de-clogging of space, I will be able to re-purpose certain bedrooms at the time it becomes necessary (for reasons such as stair hazard,) and move certain people who now reside upstairs, downstairs.

Pic: Lonely corner says “please feed me.” The picture hides the electrical box, and don’t even mention the paint swatches. Thanks.