A cluttered mind is like a cluttered house - or, in my case, exactly like it

I think my brain works faster during baseball season. In the crowded little one-family that is my mind, there are rooms full of clutter. The friends' room, where I keep everybody's names and faces, and the how-I-know-thems, is up on the top floor (really a converted attic with tall exposed ceilings, an old couch and armchair and coffee table, and plenty of natural light streaming in, perfect for mingling); the work room, which isn't really a room as much as it's an alcove or nook, with a small electric typewriter, solar-powered calculator, and some cluttered papers - it's also got a lovely view of the yard outside which is usually filled with kids playing wiffleball, or cute birds and animals doing distracting interesting things; the kitchen, living room, dining room, etc.

There are also lots of bedrooms. Of course, since there's only me (and the mingling friends in the attic) the bedrooms are mostly used for storage. One room's got a bunch of comic books and video games; one's got piles of text books from high school, and the notebooks from college I haven't lost - that's also the room that's got my driver's ed "rules of the road" handbook" and maps of Massachusetts highways (at least, I think they're buried in there); one room's got all my childhood memories, though they've been pushed back against one wall as the amount of trivia I've accumulated over the years has built up (Vincent Price played the Batman villian Eggman on the Adam West tv series);

another room has got most of my sports stuff: soccer cleats and shin guards from my under-12 season, broken street hockey nets tangled with street hockey sticks, uniforms from some of my youth hockey teams, basketballs, soccer balls, a ton of tennis balls, wiffleballs, old bases, old baseball gloves, team jackets, rollerblades, and so on.

But. There's a room up here that I don't use for clutter. It's in the same hallway, but there are two differences: the door is usually shut during the winter, and it's clean and neat and tidy.

It's the baseball room.

It's a small room, a little bigger than a small closet. It's got a large window with lead counter weights in the frame. It's got a small three-drawer desk with an old radio on it. There's plenty of floor space to spread out rosters, or stats cards. Blank scorecards are set neatly on a shelf above the desk that also holds a framed team photo of the 2004 World Champion Red Sox. On the wall facing the window there's a faded Boston Braves pennant, and a Boston Red Sox pennant from my first ever baseball game at Fenway Park. On the back wall there's a little bookcase that's got mostly biographies of major leaguers (like Ted Williams, Honus Wagner, and Joe DiMaggio) and a couple books on baseball (Summer of '49, Ball Four), Baseball Prospectus for the last five years, and a few binders on the bottom shelf with some baseball cards I've still got kicking around.

It's where I got to watch games. There's a copy of the Rules of Baseball on the desk for quick reference if needed, and a box each of black, blue, and red pens (for the keeping score).

It's one of my favorite rooms. I don't clutter it up with stuff, ever. Even when all the other rooms seem full and I just don't have anywhere to put your name, and why I should care about you, I leave that room alone.

Nope, instead I'll wander around for a little while holding that bit of info, and toss it when I judge it too much work for too little benefit (which is why I don't remember friends' significant others, or new coworkers); or that it's important enough to remember, and get rid of some other bit of information I've got kicking about to make room (which is why I forget telephone numbers - sorry, Adina).

But no matter how much junk I stuff into closets, or how many bits of personal history I've got to toss out, I'll keep that baseball room clean.

With the door open, I've got more space to move around, and I've got a quiet place to sit meditate. Things make more sense in that room, and I think better when it's open.

-t