You can't organize clutter and you can't stuff it back in Pandora's box either...

I fell asleep last night but my son woke me around one with things on his mind.  So we talked and laughed and watched a rerun of Shear Genius.  Well, I did.  He doesn't share my fascination with the show (It's just hair, Ma. Hair.)  I think he found my running commentary about every moment of the episode - Which ran along the lines of, Okay now Kim Vo - He's the really blond guy and watch, he's gonna say, Blonderexia!...Wait for it...Heeere it comes! Ha! See. Told ya! -  excruciating and it lulled him over the nighty-night edge.  Or he just pretended so I would leave.

The plan was to go to back to bed but I tripped over some of the raging disorganalia in the hall and the effort it took not to scream and punch a hole through the wall sucked the tired right outta me.  And got me thinking.

And so.  Here I am.  Thinking.  Writing.  Drinking coffee.  Icing the ankle. And what does it matter if my ankle looks like the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man's neck from Ghostbusters, no one in this hemisphere's awake.

But onto the post...

After I wrote my bin rant the other day I thought a lot about it because this process isn't just an intellectual exercise you can escape from.  This is real.  This is like a 3-D movie that gives you a gigantic headache but is still there when you take the glasses off.

Once you empty those bins, all the things that you used to have hidden are just...

every

where.

And I was thinking about something else.  That Pandora's box Greek myth.  I know it's supposed to be about the Greek Gods and gifts and something something... else, opening the box, all the world's ills come out.  The end.

But don't hold me to that, high school was a long time ago.  So listen,  I'm rethinking the whole myth. 

I think Pandora was a Greek hoarder, you know?  And she lived, oh I don't know... a mile from Mount Olympus or something but the Greek Gods had to pass her house on the way to the Oedipus Diner and Cyber Cafe and they couldn't stand the pink flamingos and brightly colored gazing balls on Pandora's Lawn so they stopped by one day to give her a copy of the Official Greek God Housing Association Rules regarding pink flamingo lawn ornaments and when she opened the door and they saw the inside, they were all, Dude you're a slob.  Get this junk out of here.  

And somehow in the retelling, cause you know how that goes - we have what we have regarding all the world's ills instead of clutter.  Which at the moment, looking at my hallway.. and my ankle, isn't such a stretch.

Anyway.  The point of this whole entire post was - I'm calling this phase of decluttering the darkest before the dawn phase. Because once the bins are open, being able to hide from your clutteriness is over.  

Make that all over the place.

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