Unwilling to Clean, I Redecorate

As my life is a mess, it seems only fair that my home should currently be a mess as well. Does the chaos of my physical environment mirror my mental disarray? My place looks shoddy. Like a single guy has been living in it for the past few months. Except then someone set off a bomb that rained down a debris of women's clothing items: nylons, shoes without mates (why should I be the only one who's lonely?), lingerie, sweaters. All strewn haphazardly about my space in a decidedly non-decorative manner. If I had any sense - or disposable income - I would move rather than clean up. It would be easier. Someone told me this mess probably resembles the home of the average transvestite. (Why do women who dress as men not get any designation at all?) But the odd jumble is neither welcoming nor festive.

So of course my nervous energy about this topic required some outlet. Tidying would be so bourgeois, so anal. But completely redesigning my space? That would be bold. While still offering that tantalizing mix of activity and procrastination. Perfect! I had a vision. The bed under the skylight. Ingenious. And I was off to the races. I can shove heavy objects around with the best of them, much to the dismay of my downstairs neighbor. Emptying one room, shuffling stuff about. Vacuuming. How do I work that darn thing again? And suddenly, if you ignored the heaps of debris shoved to the margins of the floorspace, my new plan came to life. And it was wonderful.

Until I woke up the next morning. And realized that this new arrangement would never ever work. Great. You can already guess what happens next. Everything moves back. Redecorator's Remorse. It is at times like this that I am almost grateful there is no man in my life. First, his muttering while we rearrange. Then, his shock and horror that it all goes back the next day. Back?!? Yes, back. Like I'm happy about it. Geeze.

But my inner love of floorplans, traffic flow and feng shui was not to be denied. Why not empty one room and reintroduce individual elements to see what happens? It's not hesitancy. It's practically scientific. So one by one, bits of furniture went back into the bedroom. And were dragged about to determine their ideal location. Hey, this looks cool over here. I created this divine new look for my boudoir. It's very Asian, minimalist, and mod. Other folks might go for country home or French flea market style. Mine is Dr. No, back when he still had hands. At least in one room.

The main space remains a repository of the unused items, all the junk I still couldn't bring myself to clean, plus the mishmash of daily living. My key rooms now feature a series of decor styles. The bedroom: very Dr. No. The kitchen: 50's mod with an international flair. The living room: post-tornado. I figure my best options are moving, an indoor tag sale held in one room only, or scheduling a huge dinner party for my most cruel and discerning friends. Hmmmm. You know, I'd love writing the newspaper ad for that tag sale.