Primal Spring Cleaning

'So, what's brought all this on?' A perfectly reasonable question from my husband, one dark, early morning near the end of winter. At a time of day when I'm usually foggily waking up to the chatter of young children, I was awake bright and alert, running through quite the to-do list. I had yet another day of clearing-out ahead.


Now this isn't usually something I'd approach with gusto. I've always been on fairly happy terms with my things - and admit to having quite a bit of clutter around. (Objectively speaking, I know I don't have that much. I don't have a collecting fetish, vastly space-consuming hobbies, or a shopping addiction.)


I've also always had an unthought, gut-opposition to rigid order. It seemed to make homes become rigid, military, and cold houses. But I know now that I was wrong.


How did all this primal spring cleaning start?


It started small and innocently, to begin with. I never knew I was embarking on the mother-of-all clean ups. I simply began by grouping together some medications that had sat on my bedside table while I was ill. During that time, I was too weak to tidy the room. And in the months that followed, it just wasn't a priority.


So, to start with, I just picked up the tablets, with the intention of putting them away. But where? There were some stored in the bathroom cupboard, others in the back of high kitchen cupboards, out of the reach of small hands. Logically, of course, they should all be in the same place. Soon they were joined by the first aid book, the thermometer, and... and... you get the picture. I was on a roll.


The spice corner in the kitchen came next. And once these were ordered in neat, shiny jam jars, every time I looked at this tidy area I felt good. Something seemed to shift in my long-held comfort with clutter.


So I did a little more. I tackled the hall cupboard where I had narrowly escaped injury from a quill pen falling from the high shelf. It was like doing an archeology of all those things I hadn't got around to repairing, throwing away, or putting in their right spots. Gifts, broken toys, redundant printers and mobile phones.


By this stage, I was well and truly in the swing of this clearing-out business. I moved from shelf to shelf, repairing a good many wooden toys, returning others to their kin in baskets of cars, Lego and plastic dinosaurs, and letting go of all the things that I had put off doing anything about.


The bags for the op shop began mounting in the hall. It started at two bags a day. And still I kept going, room to room - the bags kept filling with decisions made, things let go. My estimate is that about 2 and a half skips worth have gone to the local op shops.


What brought this all on? Initially, I thought it was my reaction to our particularly cold winter, and the mustiness that inhabits a house which is closed-up and heated. I wanted it to be clean, sweet smelling, and easy to move through. I wanted sunshine.


In hindsight, though, I realise that the largest motivation was, like in most other things this year, how I wanted to live. I didn't want a huge gap between what I'd like to be and what is. I didn't want to live with projects unfinished, mess and disorder, things I'd like to do deferred till a theoretical later date. If I wanted to live in a certain way, it was me who'd have to change things.


Now spring has arrived, and with it I've lost some of the energy characteristic of my early cleaning frenzy - it just wasn't sustainable, and I want to be outside on those sunny afternoons sitting in the dappled light. Still, I'm reasonably happy that I've done the bulk of the hard yakka.


The rewards? Shedding so many useless (to me) things has given me a renewed focus and energy. Many projects that up until now been vague ideas or sketches are now afoot - as evidenced by these neat piles of sewing plans and fabric bundles. It's a good feeling.