Tonight I felt the strange need to purge. Maybe it was because too much stuff was piling up on my desk (and if so, ironically, I didn't clean my desk at all), or maybe it was because it was nice not to have every corner of every room no longer occupied by gifts, wrapping paper or other accessories to make our surroundings holly and jolly.
Right now I'm leaning on an uncomfortable lump of blankets, so it's only a matter of time before I'll take a break to make my bed. But, I've gotten off track.
Clausterphobic. That's what I was feeling. When I start feeling clausterphobic in my space, I know it's time to clean. To clear this feeling, I decided to do some slight rearranging in my room. I wanted to move my end table next to my bookcase and the CD holder to the other side of my dresser. Mix things up a little bit without doing too much heavy lifting.
I cleaned next to my bed so I could put the end stand there, and moved the CD holder--which, of course, came apart. Then I needed to clean the stand and put the stuffing sitting on it on my desk so I could move it. Okay, done. Now I pick up the stand, it's heavier than I remembered, and put it next to my bookcase.
But since the bookcase is on an angle it sticks out too much, which is the exact reason why I didn't put it there in the first place. Damn, I remember now. And now sinceI recall that, I know I can't put it next to the dresser because it sticks out too much so that I can't walk through to my bed.
Sweaty and disgusted I sit down next to the night stand, still beside the bookcase, to survey the room. Disaster--ugh.
Since I'm sitting there--and in need of a victory, no matter how small--I organize my basket that I keep my lotion, perfume and stuff in. As I am finishing that up I saw a huge fucking spider (the size of two tic-tacs placed side by side--I hate spiders, that's huge for me) crawl along the floor on to my three-tier corner table.
We have company so I can't freak out or get spider-killing help like I normally would. So now I feel all creepy-crawly-icky-like. Eww.
I resign that I moved all that stuff for no reason and start working to put it back.
With everything back where it started, though less dusty, I still feel the need to purge. To fulfill this urge I pull out a bag and stuff it with random knick knacks and stuffed animals I've collected over the past five years. I'll throw the bag in the corner of the extra bedroom. Thank goodness for junk rooms.
My only problem with this scenario is I could have gotten rid of (and actually thrown away) a lot more. I have random things that stay for the sheer reason they have sentimental value. Little trinkets I've had since I was a baby, the first (and only) picture I won at the fair, a gift from a family friend and stuff I've gotten from relatives who've since died. They fill my shelves, but I'm unwilling to part with them.
Oh well, I guess.
Other than seeing that spider, I'm no more worse for the wear.
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