Spring Cleaning: A True Story

It felt good to throw these items away or donate them, and to recognize the value and meaning of purging and having extra space. I moved around the living room and threw away old candles, cards, dead plants, and sentimental items that, upon reflection, didn’t seem so sentimental anymore. No, I did not need to keep that carved wooden turtle some child sold me on the beach in Ecuador, nor did I need to hold onto all the crystals and rocks that I had collected during my hippie days.

The big closet beckoned me, and I finally responded to its call. This was the low point of the afternoon, as there were miles and miles of unchartered territory in there—and no light. There I was, headlamp on and sleeves rolled to the elbows, moving through one stack of boxes just to find another in its wake. Clothes were easier—again, anything not worn in a year got put in the donation pile. But the stacks and stacks of bills, letters, and, I’m embarrassed to admit, envelopes I had never even opened stared at me, wide-eyed and unflinching: well, we can’t open ourselves, what did you expect? It was a hard lesson.

As the sun began its slow descent outside my window, I came face to face with the hardest part of my process—sorting through my books. I had to admit to myself that though I hadn’t given up on the dream of one day owning a bookstore, it did not justify my current possession of three copies of Howard Zinn’s A People’s History of the United States. I managed to empty five shelves and fill two boxes, which I would take to my favorite bookstore in the morning. It was a start.

By nightfall, the process was still not complete. I needed to buy hanging shelves to organize some of my clothes, a shoe organizer, and (now that I could see my coffee table) fresh bottles of cleaning supplies. A paper shredder would be a wise investment. But I had made a substantial dent, and the reward of having a cleaner apartment was remarkable. As I dialed my boyfriend’s number, I looked around the apartment and took a deep breath. It truly felt like a new beginning. I was proud of myself. And there were still a few hours left of this gorgeous day that I intended to enjoy.