Today I cleaned out a random junk box that has been under my bed for at least 3/4 of my short life. Do the math. It was a treasure trove of sorts, yielding up old Dennis Rodman trading cards, a Secret Garden poster (signed, no less), postcards, and an old picture of Jacy from a camping trip when she hadn’t showered for days. Her hair stood straight up then too.
Amongst the fun and funny stuff was scattered old pictures, letters, and junk that I had shoved in the box under my bed on one of those days when I had refused to deal with it. And then I kept refusing to deal with it. And the box stayed safely under my bed. It was always there, but out of sight.
But today I dealt with it. All I need now is a garbage bag. My life is a little more organized now, a little easier to deal with. A few years from now, that box will come back out from under the bed, and I’ll do the same thing all over again. Its never a guarantee that new things won’t get shoved in that box. But if I’m okay with my life being a mess, I have to be okay with cleaning it up from time to time. No matter how much you don’t want to face some of the shit in the box, eventually you have to. Because then its done. Done.
Now, I need to go find an address, so I can use my kickin’ postcards.