THE MASTER CLEANSE
I've spent the past week in hell, getting rid of stuff.
So far I've shed 11 bags and boxes of things.
I could easily get rid of 111 more and still not be finished.
It's a lonely, overwhelming, draining task that brings up many dormant memories.
But it has to be done. The apartment has 14 years of stuff in it - including things that belonged to the mother and grandmother (also packrats) - and it's time to let it go.
I've had help from Karen Kingston's Clear Your Clutter with Feng Shui.
During breaks I watched many episodes of the Style network's utterly irritating Clean House, which is impossible to turn off. Sadly they only deal with messes in the LA area.
The front door and bedroom door now open freely, without hitting anything. (According to Kingston, opportunity can now come a-knocking. What has happened so far is that the, ahem, irregularity that's plagued me since India magically vanished).
It takes eons to sort through things and put them in their proper places -
- such as finally burying the small animal skull I've been keeping around for nearly 20 years.
Somehow this procrastinator and neo-luddite also managed to use Skype for the first time, hook up the new printer, and install curtain tie-backs.
Perhaps it's because I think of it as a Sadhana.
And if it continues, well, anything is possible.