Room of Shame

Most of us have one of these. The catch-all room that gets turned into a storage den, usually unintentionally and over years of accumulation, until it gets to the point you see here, and you keep the door closed whenever company comes over, hoping vainly that your piece and nephew don’t stumble into it in the way that they usually stumble into the only places you don’t want them to be. In my defense, I’ve been sick lately and haven’t had time to keep things as ship-shape as I’d like. But even that’s a cop-out and an excuse, as this mess has been in the making for years.

Like a junk drawer that never quite gets cleaned out, this is the room that houses both my work-out equipment (hence the sorry state of my rotund tummy) and just about everything else that doesn’t have a spot in the house. The bench-press is more of a shelving unit at this point, and the actual shelving units bend beneath the warped weight of wood that’s been punished by the wayward watering of an ancient Thanksgiving cactus and several butterfly amaryllis. The room is in a very sad way, which is why I’m making it one of my New Year priorities to get it cleaned up. I don’t do resolutions, but I make a few promises and goals that almost always get accomplished. Cleaning out this space is first and foremost among them.

There won’t be any before-and-after comparison shots, and the door will likely remain closed even when it gets its make-over (there’s no reason to showcase a work-out/CD room.) But I’ll know it’s spotless, and that is a burden off my back. I think that’s the point of feng shui. It’s a mental matter. When you know there is clear space and cleanliness, you may just find peace. At least, I’m hoping.

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