Please allow this old man to confess the following. When it comes to housekeeping, I have the organizational skills of a tree stump.

I never fully understood how part of my home became fully overloaded with things. My belongings if you will. They clearly like hanging out with each other – in the open whenever possible. Me and my things know my boyhood logic stands the test of time, pure and simple, sweet and sensible. In the open, they’re easier to find.

Stacks of books here and there, heaps of clothing, sorted by kind: socks, shirts, shorts, footwear, you get the picture.

And then, about three years ago, things took a turn for the worse. My neighbor in the apartment next store began practicing his trumpet in the room next to my bedroom. Every day. Late afternoon and evening. Every day. Ugh.

And so, I adapted. I moved my bed into the main room. My apartment is like a loft with high ceilings and large windows. The main room, which has the kitchen and kitchen counter at one end.

Anyway, it didn’t take long for the always-lurking “Oscar Madison” in me to realize I could make the main room even more orderly by moving things into the now retired bedroom. So many things in fact, it’s hard to see the bedroom floor, for one thing. The entire room is piled high with stuff and can’t be used because there is, well,  no room.

So, therein lies the challenge. Large clear plastic bags were purchased, clothes have now been sorted and the maze of belongings in the bedroom is beginning.

It’s a work in progress.

Aren’t we all.