And Through Door Number Two?

As I continue the process of unpacking bit by bit everyday, I realize that I've not shared that my attic office has a twin.

Attic #2.

Or. The catch-all space.

Our home was built in 1909, so we have closets from, well, 1909. They are not large. They are the complete opposite of a walk-in. One closet, in our guest room, is not even deep enough for one to hang shirts. It was 1909 - a time of wardrobes and huge dressers.

We have no dressers.

We do have Ikea wardrobes. We're soooo 1900's. In a Swedish kind of way.

Due to storage limitations in our closets we have chosen to keep our wardrobe boxes from the move to house all our winter clothing in Attic #2. We'll upgrade from corrugated cardboard hanging boxes to sturdier hanging wardrobes at some point, in order to provide better protection for our clothing, but for the time being this arrangement will work.

Attic #2 is also the lucky home for banker boxes filled with files, art boxes containing years of Harper and Zane's work, boxes filled with stuff from my theater days, boxes from college, luggage, what we like to call "keep for memory" boxes, etc.

We also have a coal storage room in the basement, which we aren't using for coal. That room also has stuff. Lots of stuff.

Stuff we don't need on a daily basis. And perhaps will never need. Stuff that just stresses me out.

Makes me wonder if I would have noticed had these items gotten damaged or lost during the move. It's funny to see what I've chosen to keep on the main living areas of the house and what items haven't made the cut and thus remain in boxes in their new home in Attic #2 and the basement. It's that stuff in particular that is driving me crazy.

It's incredible how stressful our "stuff" can be. We've always been purgers. If we haven't used it or needed it during the year, we give it away. I filled an entire box of clothes this week alone to take to our local thrift store - and that's AFTER filling a few bags and boxes before we even left Evanston.

I can't wait to get my hands on Attic #2, organizing it into sections for each member of the family, purging items that are just completely unnecessary and creating a space to hold items that rotate in and out throughout the year.

Of course I need to wait on this project until I, Mom, am completely unpacked, which I'm not. I also have a home office set up, a laundry room to rearrange, and the family room/toy area to get up and running.

Then, and only then, will I tackle door number two.

I hate knowing that it's there. Untidy. In disarray. So right now I choose to close the door and ignore its presence. Give it a good dose of denial.

Hmm. I think I just stumbled opon a metaphor which carries weighty spiritual significance. Care to comment on that?