I'm not sure what pushed me over the edge, but I finally got around to doing some cleaning here in the man cave. I guess a person can only stand to be surrounded by stacks of papers for so long. Who knows? I may even get crazy and vacuum up all the sunflower seed shells that have made their way into the basement. We have a bird feeder stuck with suction cups on one of the windows above the walkout door from the basement. Bird poop has not been a problem, but old shells have been. I tend to track them in when I come back from running.
It feels kind of liberating to throw out what had to be close to a ream of printouts from research for old papers. I just wonder what makes me think that I'll ever need all that stuff. Not only are Chamberlain men known for big ears and cleft chins (as well as bad hairlines until me), but we are also packrats. My grandfather would save ridiculous things in his basement that I'm sure were older than me. My dad isn't quite as bad. I'm married to "The Eradicator" when it comes to clutter, so hopefully this generational curse won't get passed on to Noah.
It always feels good to get things clean. Why can't I keep them this way? Oh yeah, it's because I don't have any discipline.
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