Saturday’s balmy spring temps prompted me to spend most of the day working in my garage.  And oh,  did it need my attention.  I’d done some reorganization early last summer, but somehow during the fall and winter months,  the dark alchemy of clutter had crept back into that space.

I dragged box after box onto the driveway.   Many were cardboard moving boxes,  with the contents listed on the side.   I didn’t quite trust my own labels,  so I had to open them to check.  Many were packed with items from items my old vintage booth.  I was able to consolidate a lot of that stuff into clear bins,  earmarked for future Etsy and eBay sales.  Okay.  Done.  Feeling good.

Now I had room to revisit the back corner of the garage, where I was confronted by the Storage Bins of Christmas Past.   Except not just Christmas.  Sixteen years of Knoxville Past.   Empty bins in red, blue, and two shades of green.  Under-bed bins.  Bins with purple handles.  WHAT WAS I DOING USING THIS MANY BINS?  For a moment,  in my mind’s eye,  I saw a sign blinking the word:  “Crazytown.”

Why Crazytown?  Because they all used to be full.  They used to live in my attic.  And closets.  And under the bed.  But here’s the part where I start seeing the upside.  Today, my attic is totally empty. Those bins are empty.  Over the past two years I have slowly but steadily been paring down,  letting go,  jettisoning material things that were no longer adding value to my life.  That stack of bins is a reminder of how far I’ve come.

Do I still have work to do?   Yes.  But it gets easier every day.