Cleaning Out

There is an unspoken art in many families that is mastered by some. Yet because of its unspoken nature, some of us get left behind in the mire. This is the art of moving junk.

When we were children we were constantly being told to "clean out your room" and that we will be severely punished if we did not obey and pick up all the junk off our floors. Now, be honest. How many of you, when you were asked to do this, simply gathered up your things and stuffed them in some strategic place - behind the dresser, in the closet, or pulled the classic under-the-bed number?

As we grow older though, we realize that that is not a very healthy way to live, and that half of the things we chuck behind the dresser or wherever, we actually use and miss when they are hidden so carefully. So, as we mature into young adults, yet while our parents continue to nag us about cleaning up our rooms, we laugh at ourselves and our previous foolishness. And we learn to move our stuff into neat piles in various corners of our room, or in artful sculptures on our dressers or desks.

Finally, when we are old and married and nagging children of our own (of which I know SO much about :P), we look back, hopefully smiling, at our own childhood days and how we too suffered and smarted when our parents vehemently request that we clean our room. But when we are remarking on how children never change, and how from age to age, they will ever be the same - how they will always be pulling the same stunts and excuses - we should be remarking on how we never change. One must admit that, where as we grow out of clothes and toys or books and decorating schemes, the one thing I don't think we ever grow out of is moving our junk around.

We don't realize it, but it becomes a sort of art. When we get rooms of our own, or even our own houses, we just get to spread it around a lot more. In one way, we become less skillful because we don't have to shove everything into one spot, we can spread it wherever we like so long as it looks orderly.

I, by a series of compelling events, was recently bound to rearrange my room. A conundrum sprawled itself before me. It took me two weekends to fully rearrange the wealth of my.... items. I spent much of my time standing in my doorway just thinking "where the hell am I going to move all of this? How am I supposed to fit this all back together without completely demolishing the house?" After almost a full days work, I finally have it almost all together.... I was obviously not gifted with the natural task with which some females are of decorating and furnishing a room.

But working on such a project always allows time for rumination. And as I was putting the last bits and piece of my life into a semi-logical order, I nearly laughed out loud to myself as I realized just what I was doing. I was doing almost exactly the same thing I was when I was seven. The only difference now is that we actually give it grown up names to the actions I was performing and I was actually putting dirty clothes in the hamper rather than behind my wardrobe. This is the art that no one dares breath a word about, and yet we all do so often. Laziness and a fondness for the things of the world make it hard for us to let go of these earthly things, that moths eat and thieves break into a steel. And so, we simply move things from one corner to the next, hoping that it will be less noticeable and more natural in one corner than in the other...