A few months ago, I realized that the hoarding and clutter problems in my apartment reached critical mass and would need to be addressed before they got any worse, let alone before I could return to art in any productive way whatsoever. It's becoming clear to me that the clutter was one of the primary culprits that killed my capacity to pay attention and focus on the task at hand.

I have struggled with these problems ever since my life exploded and fell apart in Houston six or seven years ago, and now was the time to have that final battle.

Thanks to two very special guardian angels, I was able to spend the last 45 days doing nothing but cleaning everything. EVERYTHING. No stone unturned, and no object that wasn't mission-critical spared the trashcan or Goodwill. I have shampooed the carpets, furniture, and pillows. I have scrubbed the trim with a toothbrush and alcohol. And I have completely repacked and reorganized my wardrobe.

I ended up throwing away 35-45% of the sum-total of all objects I owned, many of which represented broken memories, shards of pain and guilt, and echoes of shame. They are gone now, and what I'm left with is an immaculate sanctuary. It feels like I cleaned out my entire soul in the process of cleaning my apartment.

I now sit alone in my completed victory with a bottle of cabernet sauvignon that has a picture of a bison on it. I hope it's good!

Even if it's not, I've got a brand new home in which to enjoy it, and to also turn my attention to my next goal: art.