While growing up, my bedroom was the room where I spent the majority of my time. All my stuff was there--my craft supplies, my books, my typewriter (and later, my computer), my clothes, my collections, my current interests, about three thousand books (I'm not kidding), my musical instruments, and, at any given time, chinchillas, snakes, hamsters, etc., etc., etc.
Everything I owned in one rather small room.
Needless to say, it was a bit--shall we say--messy. The picture is the space between my bed and the bookcase that was built into the wall (I had a chimney going through my room, so it was a natural cavity for a floor-to-ceiling bookcase that was supposed to help me keep my books organized.) I didn't have sleepovers in my room. You couldn't fit another person in my room if you tried.
I have other pictures--some rather embarrassing--but this one was a good indication of what I'm coming from. What I started with, I guess. Absolutely no clue as to how to organize. Too much stuff.
And yet, in the beginning, while my room was very messy, it wasn't dirty at all. I was actually quite organized in my own way. I knew where everything was; I could find something in a particular pile in less than three minutes, and I never lost my scissors. When all was said and done, after my 'organized chaos' theory came crashing down around my head, I owned fourteen pairs of scissors.
I couldn't do what I did in my bedroom now in my bedroom then. I couldn't have a rocking chair to sit in, or put paintings on my walls. I couldn't sit on my bed without moving something else, and thank goodness we had no indoor cats--I can't imagine what would have happened then. I think I would have lost them in the chaos.
I got a very rude awakening when I got married and moved--my room was my nest, after all, and I had feathered it well. It actually took more than three years to clean it out completely; and by then, I had no clue what I really had and what I didn't.
Moving back, I never let it get very bad at all. I have pictures of that time too, and since most of my stuff was in storage, my room looked pretty nice.
But now, my bedroom isn't the only place I have my stuff. I have a whole house, and while that has definitely helped in some ways, it's also made me realize that I could very easily fill up my house just as easily as I filled up my bedroom back then.
So that's why I'm cleaning. That's why I'm decluttering. I like to be able to hang paintings on my walls. I like having a place to sit and write in my bedroom. And I like the fact that my bedroom is the first room to be completely finished; it seems right somehow.
And I finally found a place for my painting--right on my bedroom wall.
Everything I owned in one rather small room.
Needless to say, it was a bit--shall we say--messy. The picture is the space between my bed and the bookcase that was built into the wall (I had a chimney going through my room, so it was a natural cavity for a floor-to-ceiling bookcase that was supposed to help me keep my books organized.) I didn't have sleepovers in my room. You couldn't fit another person in my room if you tried.
I have other pictures--some rather embarrassing--but this one was a good indication of what I'm coming from. What I started with, I guess. Absolutely no clue as to how to organize. Too much stuff.
And yet, in the beginning, while my room was very messy, it wasn't dirty at all. I was actually quite organized in my own way. I knew where everything was; I could find something in a particular pile in less than three minutes, and I never lost my scissors. When all was said and done, after my 'organized chaos' theory came crashing down around my head, I owned fourteen pairs of scissors.
I couldn't do what I did in my bedroom now in my bedroom then. I couldn't have a rocking chair to sit in, or put paintings on my walls. I couldn't sit on my bed without moving something else, and thank goodness we had no indoor cats--I can't imagine what would have happened then. I think I would have lost them in the chaos.
I got a very rude awakening when I got married and moved--my room was my nest, after all, and I had feathered it well. It actually took more than three years to clean it out completely; and by then, I had no clue what I really had and what I didn't.
Moving back, I never let it get very bad at all. I have pictures of that time too, and since most of my stuff was in storage, my room looked pretty nice.
But now, my bedroom isn't the only place I have my stuff. I have a whole house, and while that has definitely helped in some ways, it's also made me realize that I could very easily fill up my house just as easily as I filled up my bedroom back then.
So that's why I'm cleaning. That's why I'm decluttering. I like to be able to hang paintings on my walls. I like having a place to sit and write in my bedroom. And I like the fact that my bedroom is the first room to be completely finished; it seems right somehow.
And I finally found a place for my painting--right on my bedroom wall.
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