Eighty-Seven

That's the number of plastic storage containers I have accumulated. Now, of course, i didn't realize this since the were acquired one, two, three at a time.

I got sort of stalled the last several weeks with the whole paper taming project and so, with intent to shake up the "chi" surrounding my possessions, I literally tore apart the spare bedroom. Now this room was full of things. Crates, boxes, an armoire filled with things, things on top of the armoire, things stuffed in the closet...under the bed...on the bookshelves.

Not enough stuff to qualify for an Oprah/Peter Walsh intervention, but enough. Enough that i feel weighted down, heavy, unable to move through my own life again. Perhaps this is just a depression manifesting itself, but either way, it needs to be tackled.

So I began. Friday..maybe Saturday. I can't even remember now. But I slogged, I sorted, I tossed, I trashed. And in the end, I have a room that is still not really functional, BUT, the piles are on their way to something. I cleared out the armoire, the closet, under the bed. I also worked in the office, clearing off the shelving unit and the black hole called a closet.

Lots of progress, lots of things to donate and give away. More paper and labels than I will ever use in a lifetime. A hidden stack of MORE magazines, which have been added to the pile to go through. Eighteen years of Writer's Digest (not that it helped much, eh?). INSANE.

I have begun. To lighten, to liquify, to lessen that which holds me down and hold me back. I have 87 plastic storage containers to go through. For the first time in my life, I am thankful for the apparent long winter still in front of us!