Change Happens.

I bumped into a friend the other day in a local bookstore. She had just traded-in a box of books for cash, which she most likely returned to the owner of said bookstore for a smaller stack of books on the way out. 'I'm cleaning out my house, getting rid of all the clutter,' she jubilantly declared.

My response was, 'me too!' Clothes that haven't been worn in years, blog notes and to-do lists for things long done or left undone, weeds in the yard, expired condiment bottles turned science projects in the back of the refrigerator. Out with the old, make room for the new, as they say.

A friend/customer came in the other day and was giddy about the dumpster that just got delivered to her driveway. 'I can't wait to clear out the house of all my old stuff!' She could hardly contain herself.

It seems the change in seasons often finds us hankerin' for change in our own lives.

So we attack the things under our control. Like the basement. Or the garden. Underneath the driver's seat of our Honda.

Saying goodbye to that which no longer serves us well. Although I've yet to see a scientific study to verify this, it seems the changing of seasons is a common trigger. Case in point, 'spring cleaning'.

Right up there with sports team collapses.

As I try to write about change and cleansing and rebirth, my mind can't help but return to the Red Sox and their 'historic' meltdown. Like a train wreck you just can't look away from, I can't seem to stop listening to the constant barrage of angry and broken-hearted Sox fans venting on talk radio or ranting through the comments section of the endless sports pieces from every analyst and blogger who ever heard of David Ortiz. It seems clear. Someone must take the fall for the fall. In a desperate attempt to gain some control over the situation, we fans, die-hard, bandwagon, pink hat or otherwise, speak our minds - 'Theo must go. Tito must go. Crawford must go. It's all Lackey's fault.'

Ah, if only we had keys to that cluttered Red Sox locker room, could we do some cleaning.

No one likes to feel helpless, so we fester and try to tell ourselves it's just a game. It doesn't matter. There are way more important things to get worked up over. We'll get 'em next year.

Perhaps they will or perhaps they won't. It seems clear, though, that when you don't get what you ultimately desire, you can either do the same thing again and hope it works out better on its own, or you can make changes you hope will improve the odds.

Last time it was art imitating life. Today it's sports.

I think 'Hoop' summed it up pretty well over on www.boston.com. I found this in the comments section of one of those countless post-mortem pieces..

John Henry may look like a milquetoast, but you don't build that kind of wealth without stepping on a few folks, and knowing that change is always needed from time to time to keep an organization on its edge. This organization has lost its edge, that is clear. It doesn't mean Tito and Theo are not immensely talented, it simply means it is time to refresh and rejuvenate.

Refresh and rejuvenate, I like that. I had to look up the word 'milquetoast', but I totally get the rest. I'm not going to lay all the blame on Tito or Theo or Letters to Cleo, but the point is clear. Change for change's sake isn't the answer, and cleaning your garage is much easier than facing a dysfunctional relationship or improving your self-confidence. But when things aren't working, perhaps a little closet cleaning may just be the gateway change needed to steer the ship toward what it is you seek, whether it be a world series ring or your own happiness.