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The Room of Shame

The holidays brought me a break in an otherwise hectic schedule. I have two weeks of empty calendar and I’m going to try to make the most of it. My plan is to bravely address my Room of Shame.

You know the Room of Shame. In fact, according to my friend Gayle, who is a professional organizer, everyone has a Room of Shame. For some people it might be a closet, a garage or a storage unit instead of a room, but it’s the place where you take all the stuff that you don’t have a designated place for and stack it. And stack it. And stack it. Things always go in, and never come out. That’s the Room of Shame.

Mine is indeed a room, my third bedroom. It houses my desk and a couple of bookshelves, the cats’ food bowl, and stacks and stacks of stuff. My stuff has been accumulating there since I bought the house, now more than two years ago. The moment of truth has arrived. The stuff must go.

I began by sorting. I took several empty boxes, labeled them with general categories like “office supplies” or “electronics and cables”, then began clearing surfaces. First I cleared the floor. (Yes, it had gotten that bad.) Then I cleared the desktop. I haven’t yet emptied the desk drawers, but that’s the next step.

Once everything is sorted, then the task is to make the big decision: trash, recycle, donate, keep. This is the step where you must be ruthless. No matter how useful something might be, no matter how much you spent on it, no matter who gave it to you, if it’s been buried in the Room of Shame for months or years and you haven’t used it yet, you must admit that you’re never going to use it. It’s time to let it go.

I’ve already filled half a Hefty bag, and I haven’t really begun the decision-making step yet.

What I keep telling myself is that the outward appearance of the “stuff” pile is just a physical manifestation of the inner chaos of my thought process. It seems logical, then, that clearing up the physical space will lead to a quieter, more productive frame of mind. At least that’s my hope.

So here’s to the New Year. Here’s to a new order. Here’s to stuff.

And may its acquaintance soon be forgot!

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