When my ex walked out he took virtually nothing with him. I’ve been left with 23 years of our accumulated “life.”
And most of it is covered in a thick later of dust following my mini renovation.
And I’m over it.
Everyone keeps advising me on how I should cut and cull and clear.
That’s all very well, but I’m a bit daunted.
Everything has some sort of sentimental significance. Not because of HIM, but because it has history.
For example, I’m still using my grandmother’s threadbare tea towels because, well, they’re my grandmother’s threadbare tea towels. And they remind me of standing in her carpeted kitchen drying the dishes after her Sunday roast dinners.
And those memories are so precious.
I’ve also inherited the most rag-tag collection of her knick-knacks and furniture. Can’t throw any of that out either.
Then there’s the kitchen stuff. I thought I’d finally packed it all into my new cupboards … but, no, I’ve discovered five more garbage bags in the garage.
There is no more space.
But I can’t possibly get rid of the waffle maker or the churros maker or the gingerbread maker or the popcorn makers or the pie maker or the omelette maker …
I’m a total sucker for a gadget, my eyes went all wide and starry when I saw a donut maker at Kmart the other day … a donut maker! I mean, I don’t even like donuts that much … well, I have very fond memories of those cinnamon and sugar dusted hot ones at Kotara Fair … but those cold, iced modern ones … meh.
Still, a donut maker!
Hmmmm, I sound like a nutjob.
I’ll end up on the front page of the Daily Tele, won’t I, as the owner of one of those houses that the council has to forcibly clear out after the neighbours keep complaining.
Oddly, I loved moving to New York with just a couple of suitcases and starting a new life with virtually nothing. It was so blissfully freeing.
I don’t feel blissfully free right now. I feel grubby and tired and OVER IT.
As I look around, I can see there are literally weeks of cleaning and sorting to go.
It’s a little gobsmacking, considering how much clearing out and chucking we did when we were selling the family home.
Is it the same at your place? Are you a hoarder?
Song of the day: Garbage “Stupid girl”