I’ve been in my current abode for nearly five months now, and up until this evening, it looked as though I’ve lived there for maybe a week or two. Why? Because I am notoriously terrible at unpacking.
Between work, school, and a surprisingly busy social calendar, I just never manage to find the time to finish going through those boxes and putting away those things and so on.
Plus, I rarely have new company. My visitors of late have consisted only of those who a) saw me at my best in my last apartment, in its immaculately (bordering on compulsively) clean and organized state; b) saw me at my worst, when I moved from that apartment to my current home (moving turns me into a disorganized horror); or c) both of the above.
This means that my inner hostess hasn’t been terribly inclined to take the time out of my already overbooked schedule to unpack, sort, and generally make my home space look like I actually live there. Luckily for me (and possibly unluckily for my schedule), I had a new visitor on Friday.
This meant that I had to unpack. I had to sort. And I had to clean. Not just “tidy things up a bit” clean, but “make a first impression” clean.
I am happy to report that [most of] my home space is now unpacked, tidy, and generally organized.
Except for the basement. The basement is dead to me.