I have finally faced facts. Just because I make up the bed in the morning does not mean that my room is clean. Back in the early Spring, I got this wise idea that I’m going to have a yard sale. I dragged all the crap I want to get rid of into my room and stacked it in a corner. This crap includes a stereo that needs a fuse, some large baskets that my well-meaning husband and son picked up at someone else’s yard sale, some computer components, and the most hideous lamp I’ve ever seen.
In March, I moved my office here into my room and created a bedroom for our oldest son. So I shoved the slightly dusty stack of “yard sale crap” further into the corner to make room for my desk and computer. This shoved my husband’s dresser closer to the closet and pretty much “junkified” the entire room. Also, I have a permanent bruise on my foot from crashing into the damn chair every night as I try to climb over it in the dark to get into bed.
Yesterday, my mom moved in with my sister. So I ended up taking her extra walker with a seat. (I’m not a clutter bug. I’m going to use it as a knee scooter following my upcoming foot surgery. I have every intention of giving it back once I’m allowed to walk again.) That has been placed into our closet. Also, I have the tall chest of drawers with five drawers all to myself. Guess what. Probably 25% of the stuff in there is trash-able. (Pants with chub-rub holes and stained up shirts I don’t wear anymore.)
I am attempting to go through the clothes and the stacks of papers and junk now. I can’t even with the claustrophobia and the now 1-inch thick dust piled on top of the “yard sale crap.” And if I survive this purge, IF I survive, I will no longer be sleeping in the Storage Room.