Photo found here
I spent the afternoon engrossed in some major spring-cleaning and I am already feeling the positive effects of a cleaner space. I’ve never been one for clutter, so getting rid of the little trinkets that pile up over the nesting winter months is always an enjoyable and cathartic task.
As I toss out old magazines my heart begins to lighten as if the unrealistic female images emblazoned on the pages are also leaving my head once and for all. I skim through every issue one last time to see if there are any articles worth saving. The answer is a resounding no.
Expired bottles of a salad dressing I didn’t really care for fly into the trashcan along with a small bag of nutritional yeast I never got around to using in that long-lost recipe. I begin to realize how much I prefer simpler fare these days anyhow.
One sock with no mate has been lurking at the bottom of the sock bucket for countless months. I feel a pang of guilt as I hurdle the limp little woven fellow towards the growing heap by the door. Perhaps if I didn’t have so much clothing to begin with I could have kept track of his partner instead of letting her go MIA.
I rediscover a note Tim left me the last time he stayed at my apartment. Well, perhaps not everything needs to be discarded. It finds a new home tucked safely in my journal, awaiting the next night I need to be reminded how lucky I am.
Resting on the couch now, exhausted, I stare at the bags destined for the dumpster and those for the donation bins. It turns out my castoffs had more to teach me than I could have imagined.