AOM, Day 13...

Declutter your life.

I jumped to this one because "take a woman on a date" hasn't quite happened yet.  Give me a couple days and we'll deal with that.  I may or may not have something special in mind for that one.

I skipped over "give yourself a testicular exam" because (not that I haven't done it) but honestly, who wants to hear about a guy kneading his nuts like they're pizza dough for 20 minutes?

And I went straight to de-cluttering my life.

This turned out to be a two day process!  Which I find humorous given the fact that I have only a one bedroom apartment.

Started in the living room.  Half the shit I found doesn't even belong in the basement crawl space of a crack house.  Alright, maybe it wasn't that bad.  But really, what the hell is a piece of incense and the burner doing under my coffee table?  I have had absolutely no need for incense since my relationship with Mary Jane ended.  And that was in 1998!!!

Then I tore through the rest of it.  800 square foot apartment I managed to fill up six trash bags full of shit that I should've gotten rid of a long time ago.  I am going to have to start doing this once a week.  For two reasons.  One to prevent what should take maybe an hour or two from becoming a two day ordeal, and for the great feeling you get when its done.  Dare I say its therapeutic.

I look around now and I see the top of my coffee table.  All that's up there now are the remotes for the TV and the glass of tea that I am currently drinking.  (God bless Arizona)

My bed is made (with freshly washed 620 thread count sheets and an Egyptian cotton blanket), the dinette (easily the second faggiest word ever, right behind duvet.) is clean, like hospital clean.  The kitchen was clean, for a while, of course then dinnertime came and I fucked that all up.  But we'll hit that in the morning and make it all better.  I've returned the bathroom to a state that I would actually allow a family member or close friend to use it without fearing for their lives.  I found out that I do, in fact, have a stainless steel sink. (Could never see it under the mountain of dishes.)

I'm not kidding, I really cleaned the shit out of this place.  I even included some pictures.  Not before and after.  That would've been entirely too embarrassing.

Then I set about the monumental task of doing the laundry. Which, unfortunately is still not done. I gotta do all the uniforms and shit still, but I don't have to go to drill again until August. So it can wait. At least until tomorrow.

Now I'm sitting here trying to figure out what else I should tell you guys about spending two days cleaning out my apartment. About the only thing surprising is figuring out that I have entirely too many pieces of clothing. I had managed, without any prior planning and/or knowledge struck a delicate balance in my fashion life. I created a system where the clothes in the hamper and the clothes in the dresser or closet were perfectly balanced so that none of my clothes were on the floor. Today, as I completed my sixth load of laundry and began the arduous task of getting them into their designated drawer/hanger I realized that without the relief of the dirty clothes in the hamper, my bedroom furniture and my closets are going to go boom, much like so many IED's.

I miss the magic bucket.

Oh, what's that?

You want to know what the magic bucket is?

The magic bucket lives at my mother's house.  I swiped it and brought it to my place when I moved out.  Unfortunately, I have come to the realization that the buckets magic is tied to the home of my upbringing.

Let me tell you what the magic bucket is.  In the hall closet of my childhood home, directly across from my room, down from my brother's and right next to my mom's is the magic bucket.

After I wore my clothes.  Regardless of the condition you leave them.  Regardless of the stain.  Whether it be, grass, grease, ketchup, blood (mine and/or that of others), wine and/or any other kind of booze, or whatever I had managed to grind into the fabric of my clothing.  I would place the soiled clothing into the magic bucket and close the hall closet door.

From the time I placed the soiled clothing into the magic bucket, there was a window of 48 hours that opened.  Sometime between when I put them in there and when I came in the next two days, the clothes would magically reappear in my dresser and/or closet.  Except when they reappeared, they were pristine clean.  Cleaner than they had ever been.  I don't really know how this happened given the fact that over the years I deposited the same articles of clothing into the bucket on more than one occasion.  Yet, they always came back cleaner than ever.  Smelled like babies, and were as soft as kittens.  Every last trace of any stain was gone.  All wrinkles were removed.  And there sat or hung my clothes.  Neatly put away, each in its own place...

Mom's are magic.

And their sons are smart asses.

Later,

Oops, wait tomorrow is a big day.  Tomorrow is write a letter to your father day...

...Oh shit.

I love you Mom...and your magic bucket.