Regrettably, my room is in a perpetual state of chaos. As much as I would like to adopt a minimalist or at least a lack-of-crap-everywhere-ist approach to room organization, it is not to be. I cannot take on tasks without accumulating paraphernalia, or so it would seem.
I am the kind of person who cannot think straight unless a certain amount of order is enforced over the course of my day. For instance, my day will seem in all ways off if I have not made my bed before I leave the house. Considering that once I leave the house I usually remain away from it until well into the evening, this habit has a huge effect on my mental state. I dream of having a desk and shelving system free from clutter. Papers just seem to gravitate towards me, it is most irksome.
Every inch of the floor space at the perimeter of my room is taken up by a bag, a piece of furniture (often having bags or boxed in, around or on top of it, a box or a pile of paper. Yes, I do clean. I go through the process on a monthly basis, suffering through the part where you have to make more mess in order to achieve less of it, but it does not get better. In my house, my parents are loathe to throw anything away. To say that it has rubbed off on me is to say that it would take a bit longer to cross the Atlantic Ocean on foot. These aforementioned parents have instilled in me the desire to keep things that might be useful at some point down the line (maybe).
I am growing close to having enough. There are so many things I want to get rid of but because of their habit for keeping things of their own there is no longer any place in the house to keep mine. The state of our basement would make anyone weep (I just consider it a hazard). The contortions one has to subject ones body just to walk between the piles of junk down there borders on unbelievable. I have been make concentrated efforts, such as rotating clothing out of my closet when I buy new things and donating items I have not worn in many months. I am also looking for places which will accept books, but it becomes harder when you get to things like scraps of fabric too small to make into anything and other crafting supplies.
Let's face it, ladies and gents, my life has outgrown the boundaries of my little childhood room. My only reservation is that once the foot is placed squarely outside the familial home, there is no going back. Yet the idea continues to crystallize in my mind: the time to move out is coming and it will continue to weigh on my mind until I address it once and for all.
An opportunity to move into an apartment closer to downtown has presented itself. It is the home of a wonderful friend and I would be glad to share a living space with her. I have been going through some spectacular mental gymnastics these past few weeks, trying to come to some solid conclusion. I remain conflicted.
Sitting around waiting for an epiphany has rarely done anyone much good, and yet I persist.
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