Sleepwalking my way through life: The before and after



The before and after

After nine hours of solid cleaning – which spawned four bin bags worth of rubbish, two trips to empty the dust filled hoover, and one cut finger – my room is finally clean. And when I say clean, I mean clean.

Usually, when called upon to clean my room, I make a half arsed attempt at moving things around (I’ll move those books to that corner, and then swap those clothes with those DVDs…) before dusting and hoovering around my rearranged possessions. I would then lie back and marvel at my work, casually ignoring the inch thick dust hidden behind my unused TV. But not today, today I did what is referred to at work as a deep clean.

It started two weeks ago with the wardrobe. I had organised my vast collection of books and DVDs and I tearfully piled my prized magazine collection into the recycle bin. Over eight year’s worth of Nintendo innovation, progress and excitement; all deposited into the cold, blue wheelie bin. The lack of magazines left a large empty space in my wardrobe; the beginning of my epic clearout.

I spent nine hours clearing everything up. I was merciless in my decisions, nostalgic at my finds, and pleased with my arrangement. I was industrial. Plastic bags were rapidly filling with my unneeded junk; trinkets I had picked up at my cousins wedding, an old glass Coke bottle I had kept for nostalgia’s sake, and a small red paper drink parasol that I once saved from an Italian restaurant. I was astounded at the amount of tat that I had accumulated over the years – though I allowed myself to keep the odd few items as guilty pleasures.

At half past nine, after starting work at half past twelve, I sat back on my bed and examined my work. My room was, for lack of a better word, empty. The only things populating the floor consisted of my bag, my slippers and a book, each surrounded by a sea of red carpet. The tops of my drawers were bare, with only the bare essentials kept on their clean white surfaces. The TV has disappeared and has been replaced with empty space, and the walls – once covered in brilliantly selected posters and a selection of my old drawing – were also amazingly empty while sporting the scars of over a decade of use.

My room now looks like it belongs in a hostel; single bed, plain walls, bedside table with a lamp and deodorant resting on the drawers. It just feels so empty. I swear I can even hear an echo in my typing.

This marks the first step in moving out. My newly cleaned out room can now be redecorated, painted with neutral beiges and creams to please potential buyers. After the house is sold up, we can look for flats and – finally – move out. Projected time frame? Chris and I should be out the house and in our very own flat by March. Fingers crossed.

This room may be completely clean, bare, and wholly uninteresting, but when I think of what is to come I cannot help but squeal with excitement.
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1 Comments:

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