Ah, spring cleaning. The time of year when, after months of being cooped up due to bad weather and family gatherings, our bodies start to crave a good domestic purge. Some people love throwing stuff out and do it on a daily basis while others hold on to every scrap of paper they might need over the next 5-50 years. Unfortunately, I’m the latter. I’m not quite “Hoarders” material, but sometimes I look around at all the junk I’ve been holding onto and think “WHY??” Logically I know it’s unnecessary crap. But there’s a tiny part of my brain that thinks “this little plastic box your Venus razor head came in would make an excellent container for odds and ends!” or “what if I need to have my German phone number from 4 years ago for records of some kind??” Really? REALLY??
I’ve been slowly feeling the need to purge creep up (mostly because the piles of crap are starting to have babies all over my house) but I keep putting it off. Why? Well duh. It’s snowing outside right now! It’s still winter. Spring isn’t here, therefore I can’t do spring cleaning. That’s just logic.
… or laziness. So starting this weekend (not procrastinating, really! I’m just thinking my husband, who has contributed vastly to the copulating paper skyscrapers should help out) I will be busting out the huge black trash bags and getting rid of anything and everything I can before my neighbors glance in my window and turn me in to a self-help television show. It’s time.
So if you’re like me and putting off the inevitable, join me. It’s time. The kids will be out of school soon and you don’t want their messes mixing with your messes and producing mutant mess babies. Your home might never recover. If it seems overwhelming, set a timer for 10 minutes. That’s all I’m asking, just 10 short minutes of your 525,600 minutes this year to make yourself a nice spot on your kitchen counter (or wherever you pile your mail, bills, kids schoolwork, receipts, etc) so that you can breathe a little easier this spring. After all, you’ll probably be using that breath to sing RENT songs now that I have it stuck in your head. “Five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes! How do you measure, measure a year…?”