I spent yesterday cleaning house. That counts as a workout, right?

OK, even if it doesn’t, the point is that my home is now far cleaner than it’s been in a while. Cleaner, but still fairly cluttered.

Until recently, my bedroom had been a sanctuary from clutter, a pleasant room kept “Mommy clean” and free of the toys, food wrappers, dirty clothes and other detritus that follow in the wake of my husband and son as they move through the place.

(No, the mess isn’t mine. If there’s something of mine out of place it’s because I’m leaving it there until it’s more convenient to put it away. There’s a difference. Trust me.)

Since dragging my exercise bike up from the basement to our bedroom it’s done nothing but act like a clutter magnet. Yes, there’s the requisite nightgown hanging from it. It’s one that I wore just last night, so it’s not like the thing’s turning into a glorified clothes rack.

It’s also surrounded a half-dozen free weights, some ankle weights, a yoga mat, my exercise ball, some of those stretchy rubber bands that should’ve taken the place of the free weights but didn’t, a pair of tennis shoes, a face towel and countless exercise videos that are all gathering dust.

What isn’t there in the corner where my exercise bike is actual room to exercise. It’s just too crowded with stuff that doesn’t have another place yet.

I need to figure out some storage solution — something that’s stackable and easy to open. They must also be clear — all around — otherwise I know darned well I’d forget about all of that gear being stashed away inside of them. As they say, “Out of sight is out of mind.”

Much as I hate to exercise, I’m afraid I’d use that excuse to get out of it, too.