Junk or Memories?

My landlord called that he would be doing a property check today, in preparation for the city's health and safety check next week. Which means, my roommate was introduced to anal-about-clean Val, and her boyfriend got introduced to how to clean the bathroom. Hey, he is the one who has the bad aim, NOT us. I figure he's here enough that I should be making him share the rent with us. But, then I'd probably have to let him actually stay here - and that's not going to happen. So - I put the boy to work. I am CLEANING, the inspector coming is equivalent to the Queen of England stopping by for tea. Strike that, the Inspector is way more stressful. His job is to be picky, and to report any breach of code. Trust me, if so inclined he could find something to report, even if this was the White House.
I have to admit, my room is the worse room in the apartment. It's such a jumble that you become overwhelmed by the task before you can even start. More of a storage room then bedroom, really. Now before you start passing judgement, there is something you should know... The bedroom itself is not large, maybe 16'x20', which is a decent size, however my desk , a massive oak teacher's desk from 1942 dominates one whole wall. The opposing wall is lined by the daybed. Walls to either side - dressers and entertainment center. Actually it isn't a bad room, except for the fact, I have too much stuff in it. Of course, since there is no real storage (2 small closets) things I had kept of my son's ended up in my room. Hence two Samurai swords hang above my bed. There is also a large plastic container under the bed, holding those things from his life that possibly only a Mom could understand their worth to me. There are also some things that were my Mom's. With the passing of my father, more stuff was added. Things, to send off to various siblings, things to keep, and things I have no idea what to do with, as they're still in boxes to be gone through. Then with Mary's arrival, Jess's things had to go somewhere. Can you guess where? Stuffed animal's grace a chair and my bed. Porcelain dolls stare down at me from shelves on one of the dressers. Her dresser cuddles next to my own. A plastic box containing high school souvenirs wrestles for room under my bed. Of course there is the crowning glory of having the litter box also in my room. That in itself is not too bad. However it is rather large ( 3 cats large) and takes up even more space. Rather easy to understand why it is such a daunting task. Every surface holds scads of 'treasures'... I sigh, face it I do not have a bedroom, I have a flippin' museum. So the bulk of yesterday was spent with my attempting to bring some order to the chaos.
Mary peers around the door frame and utters , "Oh my gawd! There IS a bedroom in here, with a floor!" I flick the dust cloth at her.
It would be nice if I could spread this stuff out some, but the living room and kitchen are even smaller,and whereas I can always close my bedroom door, I can't really keep folks that come over from the other areas. I suppose one day, I will be strong enough to let some of these things go. But for now, I lightly touch an object and remember days gone by.