The impending visit of a dear friend touched off a frenzy of cleaning and organizing the likes of which hasn't happened since the great pack-a-thons of 2005 and 2011.
When I moved out of the large house where I raised my kids to a smaller house where I thought I'd retire, I purged. And purged. And purged. I donated to Goodwill and the Salvation Army, recycled, free-cycled, and filled two enormous Dumpsters with the accumulated detritus of 15 years.
When the ordeal was over, I promised myself to be mindful of every purchase; to find new homes for things I didn't need at the time I realized I didn't need them; to make a place for everything and keep it there.
And then, surprise! In January of 2012 I moved to California to a small apartment. Packing for the move, I was reminded again and again of my failure to keep the promises to myself. So. Much. Stuff.
Sorting through my 2nd bedroom today, every skirt that no longer fits, every orphan sock, every unfiled piece of paper shrieks of yet another failure.
I shove things aside. Pile them out of sight. Focus on my work to the exclusion of my home life, mostly so I don't have to face how empty my home life here really is.
This time. This time I will do better.
If I say it often enough, will it come true?