Skeletons, be skeered

Yesterday it was the upstairs hall linen closet.  I opened it, and suddenly putting away a few items became a Project.  I stuffed a tall kitchen trash bag full of items to go into the trash.  I stuffed another tall kitchen trash bag full of items to go to Goodwill.  I organized and neatly stacked the remainder of the linens into neat categorical piles on the shelves…and discovered the closet was still full.

What is up with THAT?

Today it was my nail polish bin.  I threw out polishes that had turned to sludge.  I threw out polishes that I know were made prior to a reformulation that made my preferred brand (OPI) more safe.  I gathered polishes I don’t wear and no longer like.  I discarded worn nail files.  I re-packed my bin.

Lawsy, I own a hecka lotta red. Orangey-red, pinky-red, burgundy-red, reddy-red, chromey-red, glittery-red, frosty-red, deep red, screaming red, and my personal fave, DFWM red, which, if you have to ask what kind of red that is…then you really probably don’t want to know.

It appears that a season for sorting and discarding and reorganizing is upon me.  I like things to be organized and really don’t function well if they aren’t, but creating order out of chaos isn’t a pet pursuit for me.  I like the destination, not the journey.

God is good to sometimes show me a map with an arrow that says “YOU ARE HERE”.  He knows that I don’t always stop to evaluate where I am, so He just shows me.  He did that recently.  And now I find myself rummaging about, pitching the clutter, giving away the useful (but not to me), and evaluating how to make what’s left be more useable.  Nothing is safe, nothing is sacred.  Not closets…not bins…not the paths and processes of my life.

It’s time to be ruthless.