Blue Rug Syndrome and The Benefits of Spring Cleaning

So (obviously) I have a new blog. And it's crisp and clean and organized and just so. If my blog had a scent, it'd be that just-got-back-from-my-mandated-errandfest-since-the-maids-were-here-cleaning smell. You know the one that mixes bleach and Pine-sol and lemon Pledge and Windex and vacuum lint in this intoxicatingly delicious scent.

Or maybe I flatter myself (and my blog).

Regardless. Growing up, my parents--who coined crafty, clever names for all kinds of mental illnesses--explained what they dubbed as "Blue Rug Syndrome." We had this blue rug under the couch in our family room and whenever the blue rug was dirty, it seemed like everything was dirty and cluttered. The rug represented my parents' psyches. And if it was clean, they could breathe a little deeper and appreciate the nice little things.

Anyway, my life has numerous "blue rugs." My bed, my room, my desk, my planner. When things are all cluttered and messy (and they frequently are), I can't think straight.

So a couple times a year, I go through my life with some metaphorical bleach and Pine-sol and freshen it up a bit. I go through all the random daily emails and unsubscribe to the crap I don't need (like campus clubs that I have never been a part of or daily discount emails for San Diego). I permanently delete emails that have absolutely no relevance to my life anymore and set a cheery picture as my desktop background.

I go tanning and cut my hair. I treat myself to a pair of ridiculously high summery shoes. I buy myself flowers and eat chocolate more frequently.

My personal "Spring Cleaning" is a chance to turn over a new leaf. Or flower petal. Or whatever. I reach out to people I haven't talked to in a while and discontinue contact with those that don't contribute to my life. I paint my toe nails an obnoxiously neon color and delete friends on Facebook who wouldn't know me on the street.

I'll admit I sometimes keep the "chair monster"--a heaping piled of clean, flat (not just thrown there) clothes that I'm too lazy to put on hangers and jam into my microscopic closet--just for company, but the rest I try to minimize so I can start fresh.

I clean my life to clear my head and make way for all that splendid summer sunshine and crappy chick lit (so. much. alliteration!). And it leaves me like I am today: sitting at my cubicle with a goofy smile on my face and feeling like I can take on the world.