Holding The World In My Hands

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one earring? That phone number without a name? This postcard? That sock?</p><p id="1840">Thinking would lead to the memories which caused to me keep the item in the first place. And as I said going down memory lane stops my cleaning process for hours on end. And produces more of a rearrangement than an actual tossing away of said items.</p><p id="2490">For several hours I stayed in hyper-gear.</p><p id="7f27">And then I came to the large obstacle in the corner of the guest room: The World Globe. Now, this isn’t your normal “set on the table, look for a country” globe. No, this is a massive piece of furniture. It sits in a round wooden frame, taking up one corner of the room. Not only is it huge, it’s ancient. There are countries on this globe that don’t even exist anymore. For the past few years (okay, let’s be honest…twenty years) it has been a receptacle for hats, purses, clothes and dust.</p><p id="6549">It was time for it go.</p><p id="b87f">I rolled it out of the room and through the house. I hoisted it over my head and carried it to the curb. While doing so, I realized that I carried the world in my hands, both literally and figuratively.</p><p id="c1a3">I can do what I want with my time. No one can make me do anything against my will. I don’t always have to say yes. I don’t always have to be there because someone needs me. Sometimes saying no is a good thing.</p><p id="fcdd">Once back in the house, I felt freer. Lighter. Not only were the rooms void of clutter, my mind felt less tangled. I decided that I maybe I would throw things away on a more regular basis.</p><p id="e30a">But then again, like I said. I’m the master of my world. So, maybe I won’t.</p><p id="7963">Thanks for reading.</p><p id="d201">I’ve been writing all my life and this finally happene

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Holding The World In My Hands

We are the master of our own universe.

I’m not a hoarder.

But because of my weird allergy to cleaning in which I can’t seem to stay focused on the task, but rather tend to fall into the pattern of toss away, reminisce, retrieve, and repeat, life tends to collect around me.

That is not to say that I never remove anything. In fact, certain events can send an SOS to my brain, eliciting a cleaning frenzy. One of these events being a visit from my sister.

Now, she’s not a clean freak by any means. But she has inherited a bit more of that gene from our mother than I have. When we shared an apartment in the year BC (before children) she usually cleaned more than I did. She wrote off my sub-standard scrubbing skills to the fact that I wore glasses and couldn’t see that well while in the shower.

Well, I still wear glasses. Still can’t see. But I had the need to show my sister a sparkling clean house.

Two days before her visit, I turned into a whirling dervish, spinning myself from room to room. Speed was the operative word in getting things done. Pick up and toss away. Don’t think. Don’t ponder. And definitely do not reminisce.

Why I had kept that one earring? That phone number without a name? This postcard? That sock?

Thinking would lead to the memories which caused to me keep the item in the first place. And as I said going down memory lane stops my cleaning process for hours on end. And produces more of a rearrangement than an actual tossing away of said items.

For several hours I stayed in hyper-gear.

And then I came to the large obstacle in the corner of the guest room: The World Globe. Now, this isn’t your normal “set on the table, look for a country” globe. No, this is a massive piece of furniture. It sits in a round wooden frame, taking up one corner of the room. Not only is it huge, it’s ancient. There are countries on this globe that don’t even exist anymore. For the past few years (okay, let’s be honest…twenty years) it has been a receptacle for hats, purses, clothes and dust.

It was time for it go.

I rolled it out of the room and through the house. I hoisted it over my head and carried it to the curb. While doing so, I realized that I carried the world in my hands, both literally and figuratively.

I can do what I want with my time. No one can make me do anything against my will. I don’t always have to say yes. I don’t always have to be there because someone needs me. Sometimes saying no is a good thing.

Once back in the house, I felt freer. Lighter. Not only were the rooms void of clutter, my mind felt less tangled. I decided that I maybe I would throw things away on a more regular basis.

But then again, like I said. I’m the master of my world. So, maybe I won’t.

Thanks for reading.

I’ve been writing all my life and this finally happened. Never give up!