Junk in My Trunk

Every weekend I am trying to make myself do a little bit of cleaning. I don't want to leave it all to the last minute before I move. When I say cleaning, I mean C-L-E-A-N-I-N-G. Hours of work, you forget to eat you're so into it kind of cleaning. Last weekend, I purged myself of countless piles [and plastic bags full] of paper, as I took a trip through the paper history of the last few years of my life. This weekend, I cleaned my TRUNK. The trunk that has not been cleaned since I got my car. The trunk that I used as storage for anything I didn't know what else to do with. The trunk that I was afraid to open because I didn't know what might jump out at me. I had so much stuff in there that it would all roll around when I made sharp turns [and if you know me, that might or might not happen a lot]. Friends used to ask me why I was driving around with a dead body. I was hoping there wasn't one in there. So this weekend, I made sure I was wearing clothes I didn't mind sweating in [um, more like pouring sweat], and I got to it, a little afraid of what I might find. Hours later, I had a clean trunk, and a clean car. And some of my favorite CD's back. I now feel like a new woman! Next up is my closet *shudder*