First, there was the blizzard. Perfectly timed to coordinate with the start of classes (again), so (once again) the first day of classes was cancelled.
This meant a bit of regrouping was in order. I figured I would eventually blog about that, but instead, I just regrouped and went about my business.
Then, the semester started. It went as smoothly as could be expected, with no drama or angst whatsoever. Which is good, because the last thing you want at the start of the semester of drama. It isn't a good thing midway through the semester either, actually, but right at the start? It's totally unnecessary and unwelcome.
I also started taking Pilates classes again. This meant that I suddenly became aware of about 89 tiny muscles that I haven't used in months. And while that's interesting to me, if you haven't experienced it yourself, I doubt you could relate.
But then yesterday, that was the day. I cleaned a major closet.
I have a little walk-in closet in my home--and please, if, when I say this, you're picturing some fabulously lighted white-and-golden chamber in some movie about a fabulously wealthy celebrity with all kinds of fashion-sense, stop picturing that.
Because compared to that, my walk-in closet is more like a walk-in tunnel. But it is a walk-in closet and it is the largest closet in my home and it really can hold a lot of stuff.
I took full advantage of its capacities when I moved in, back in 2010. I knew that a lot of the stuff I was putting in there would have to be sorted and/or discarded, but instead of doing that, I just loaded it in there and went on with my life.
Needless to say, as the years unfolded, the previously-planned sorting and discarding never happened and what happened in its stead was... accumulation.
Last spring, I decided to store my hybrid bike in there.
This decision isn't as insane as it sounds: there is--and was--room enough in there for it, so I wheeled it in there and closed the door. Problem solved.
Over the course of the summer, no new problems arose because what I cheerfully refer to as my "play-clothes" are stored elsewhere.
Once the semester started, however, it became clear that we had a problem, Houston. Because my "school-clothes" are stored in the walk-in closet, and I could no longer walk into it.
I quickly realized that, unless I did something--and quickly--I would be wearing the same two outfits all semester, simply because those were the ones that I could open the door, lean in, and grab.
So yesterday, I tackled the closet-cleaning that probably should have happened over five years ago. When it was all said and done, my nasal passages required two doses of antihistamines to cope with all the dust, but my heart was happy. I took 11 bags of clothes to the donation bins and several bags to the trash.
I can now walk into my walk-in closet.
And yes, the bike fits. With all kinds of room to spare.