I have been well and truly overwhelmed by rubbish this week since my OH decided to completely re-organise the loft. What on earth possessed him? Had he followed my cunning plan of never venturing up there, we wouldn’t be in this chaos. But no, he has to go and mess with the order of things. Tut, tut.
It’s funny how someone’s good idea only remains ‘good’ as long as it doesn’t make me want to kill them! Otherwise, it’s just an idea. One that’s going to irritate the hell out of me – not a wise move.
He meant well. I can’t blame him (I can.) The loft, apparently, was “a shambles, love,” and, “it needs sorting once and for all.” I could say the same to him now I can’t even have a wee without treading on upturned plugs.
How did we manage to accumulate so much ‘stuff’ over the years? I now have six bin liners full of clothes I’d forgotten I even had, which completely ruins my “But I’ve got nothing to wear” speech forever more.
The clothes ranged from a long forgotten size 16 to a hopefully never again size 22. From shorts that were indecently too short to a lace dress that made me look like Anne Widdicombe. I now reside somewhere in the middle so, consequently, 2/3 of the clothes don’t fit anymore. Ha, I can still use the “But I’ve got nothing to wear!” speech!
As one plastic storage box was slid down the ladder to me, followed by another and another, I saw glimpses of history pass me by. Photographs of the children as babies peered through the opaque plastic; every single doodle they’ve ever, well, doodled was piled high and then came four year’s worth of my university work – some good, some bad and some embarrasingly ugly.
One of the real prize finds, however, were my mum’s jewellery boxes. There were three; one plain brown leather, one a carved wooden box and then there was the final box. A black, lacquered Chinese box handed down to her from her mum, my Nan. A trilogy that I’ve avoided since Mum died.
And it won’t hurt to avoid them for a little while longer.
The dilemma I now have is what do I do with it all? Do I sell the things I don’t want for some extra pocket money, or give it all to charity and know I’m doing the ‘right thing?’ Do I get rid of everything so that the loft doesn’t become a “shambles” again? Do I brave doing another Boot Fair, bearing in mind there is probably a very good reason I’ve only ever done one and that was ten years ago.
All I know is that I want to get into my bathroom again! I want to walk into the lounge without tripping over the broken portable TV. I want to go to bed without 100 unwanted coat hangers doing me any permanent damage.
But most of all, I want a more streamlined life. I know I have to cut the crap, as it were. So … the OH was right after all.