Unstoppable clutter

Growing up, my room was always a mess. Well, when my parents put me in charge of my laundry was when it got out of control. Piles of clothes, papers, books--cleaning out my clutter was always a monumental task.

As I've gotten older--I've gotten better. I do realize some of this improvement is due to the fact that since I moved out of my parents house, many of my belongings have stayed in storage boxes. But I do try to keep my living space--well liveable.

Since my last move, my bedroom is tiny. You neglect laundry in my room and suddenly you can't walk...so I've been pretty good for the last couple months. But then there was this space. It was actually my laundry basket. It was sitting empty, since I was using a hamper on the other side of the room. And it became a covenient depository for some papers I took out of something. And then the miscellaneous clothes that are not exactly dirty or clean got put on top. And since this pile of clutter was contained, I wasn't too worried..

And then it was laundry day, and I needed that basket, so I dumped the contents on the floor. And as I did so I knocked the stack of note cards off my bookshelf, and the stack of sweaters that stood orderly in their corner and now the nice neat pile of "to be gone through" stuff that was nicely contained.. is creeping around the end of my bed and encroaching on my already diminutive space.

And as I was kicking the unwanted items under the bed and out of my way this morning in my rush to get ready for work, I realized that my brain is often like my cluttered bedroom. I let one thought creep in. A not so good, self-pitying thought. And then I think of the events that caused that self pity to arise. And then the books I read and movies I watch spill on over, and before I know it,I'm knee deep in feeling blue and heart broken.

Clutter is a bad thing. In my little room..and in my little brain.