The inventor of the phrase “spring cleaning” must not have considered final exams and projects, grueling athletic schedules and the other assortment of springtime responsibilities the average high schooler is subjected to. Vacation months, on the other hand, have plenty of time and space for self-reflection, reorganizing and decluttering. This summer, inspired by Japanese tidying consultant Marie Kondo’s “The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up,” I finally tackled cleaning my room, one of the many tasks I postponed during the school year.
I first picked up Kondo’s book in June while staying at my grandmother’s house in the suburbs of DC. Drawn to the light turquoise cover, I read the cleaning guide like a novel: with interest, not aspiration. To tidy as vigorously as Kondo felt unnecessary when staying in a guest room devoid of clutter, with pink walls and tastefully placed paintings of roses.
But when I returned to New York in early August, I thought of the book again. My bedroom felt stifling. My bookshelf had become the site of a miniature Sephora, the contents of my closet ended up primarily on the floor and my shelves contained far too many games only suitable for preschoolers. I needed a hard reset, a merciless purge of everything outdated and useless that had accumulated over the years.
The Marie Kondo method involves placing every item of a particular category on the floor before lifting each object and considering the question: “does this spark joy?” Once the tidier has discarded the uninspiring items of each category, the room will contain only truly wanted items. The one pitfall of the “spark joy” method is its disregard for utility. A large bottle of sunscreen does not exactly fill me with delight, but I still ought to keep sunscreen on hand. With a bit of common sense however, the intuitive method worked beautifully.
I approached my bookshelf first. Getting rid of books felt almost illicit. I worried: what if I need to reread a particular novel or a friend asks to borrow an old favorite? Despite my misgivings, I knew I did not need multiple copies of the first Harry Potter book. By the end of the hour, I had a sizable box to get rid of and even took it upon myself to sort the remaining books by color.
Next, I turned to my clothes. I presumptuously thought this would be an easier department to tackle because I routinely go through my closet. Imagine my surprise when I found multiple children’s size seven dresses and a baby onesie with a tag still on it. Happily, I also found an abundance of school merchandise. Now, I have options the next time I find myself in dire need of a sweatshirt bearing the image of a large bird.
After admiring my eagle-emblazoned outfits, I switched my focus to educational material. My desk, I decided, should not be littered with 7th-grade textbooks and post-its filled with nonsensical strings of numbers. After discarding a pile of dried-out pens, I discovered a trove of papers: old Valentine’s Day notes, birthday notes and an envelope from an old neighbor. I finished the cleaning marathon inspired.
I will never have a perfectly curated bookshelf, my closet will always contain a few errant socks and my desk will likely become chaotic again. But I hope my efforts will make some difference – at least until next summer.
