I moved into my current flat in August. About two weeks before my dissertation was due in fact, not the best move ever. Accordingly, when I moved, I didn't so much fully move as I did shove all my stuff in garbage bags and throw it in the van (which by the way, showed up over an hour early, so I couldn't even pretend that they were organized garbage bags) and toddle up the street. Once we got everything physically *in* the flat we stopped. I have a functioning flat, sort of, but my closet is a beast of nightmarish proportions - if you are a woman, you know what I mean - it's at that stage where I'm digging under my bed to find clean clothes I can wear, because I don't want to open it. To make it even worse, probably about 1/3rd of my clothes are still in the garbage bags, hiding underneath my bed or in various corners. It's not cool, and now, nearly 6 weeks after I moved, it's time to bite the bullet, and get this nonsense under control.
By blogging about it of course...
Yes, I am totally busted for procrastinating. As I write this my flat looks like a bomb hit it, with open suit cases (did I mention there were two trips to the States in there that I hadn't really unpacked for?) tattered plastic bags and scarves strewn everywhere. Naturally, I pulled everything out, and then stopped for a rest, only to look around me in despair.
See here's the thing, I *like* organizing my closet. I *like* pulling it out, categorizing, folding and putting it back in again in a more efficient manner. I think it might just be a female thing. But I *don't* like doing it when it doesn't all fit, or has to be sorted (as opposed to I *want* to sort it). Boo, hiss, tantrum. This is exactly what I have to do. However, my motivation is as follows: 1- the place is a mess 2- I'm tired of wearing the same 4 t-shirts 3- I can't find the remote, it's buried in clothing and the current channel is doing a 'how it's made' of slaughtering chickens and carving their carcasses!
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