It will send you into a depression!
Two years ago we moved into this house. I remember having a gargage sale in the old house to reduce the amounts of “stuff” that we had collected over the preceeding years. In fact, I distinctly remember getting rid of huge amounts of unnecessary things so as we could move into a smaller place. Two friends Ines and Meryn can testify to my garage sale and the vast amounts of off-loading that I did. It was testiment to my self discipline that I got rid of so much “stuff”. Mr J, hoarder by nature (I think it’s a male thing) stood horrified as we girls sold his many many many boxes of junk. Over the years I had attempted to get rid of a lot of "things" by throwing them into the recycling bin, with Mr J always close on my tail pulling them back out because he could not possibly part with a half used bag of staples, an odd black sock, etc ( I rest my case on the hoarding thing). Mr J's dad (father-in-law A) was a hoarder as well, as was his father and the father before him. Perhaps it's genetic rather than a male thing...who knows?
Now only two years later every cupboard creaks with overloaded bits and pieces. Every crockery shelf is double-stacked with chipped, faided looking plates and odd glasses. Piles of DVDs are heaped against the loungeroom wall, begging to be fitted into a DVD stand. Indeed, bottles of wine (many bottles I might add) sit awkwardly proping each other up against the side board. Upon closer inspection I note that they were given as presents to us many moons ago. I wasn’t tempted to drink them back then so why on earth would I drink them now. Time for change (again).
I have not lived full-time here at home for some time;just the odd visit to salvage the house from my offspring's total anarchy. However in such a short number of years one can hardly enter the kitchen. Just opening the cupboard above the fridge is to gamble with decapitation by bombardment, packets of every shape, size and food stuffs have been cramed into the small space. After forcing open the door to the third bedroom there are bags of purchases spilling out from under the daughter’s bed, collections of half used perfumes and out-of-date magazines are everywhere. At least nothing is moving on the floor and nothing is growing, that’s a start. We need to do something!
I then moved into the bathroom. Goodness, how could two young people need so much hair gel, so many tins of deodorant and ten different types of hair shampoo. The pile of discarded bath towels tells me that at least they have been showering. Well surprize, surprize....the tiles are still cream and not brown from mould, I wonder which one of them has been cleaning? All the lovely space in the vanity is also gone. It has been replaced with empty bottles of soap, blunt razor baldes, half-used bottles of hair colour and half-empty after-shave containers…makes sense if you are a teenager I guess. Keep the full ones all around the room in arm’s reach and then throw them in the cupboard once they are empty instead of the bin. Parents are so illogical at times, why didn’t I think of that, all those years that I have walked to a garbage bin and thrown the rubbish away. Silly me.
Next is the hall linen press, silly me once again, I opened it and guess what? Its filled with clothes. To find a clean sheet or a bath towel is to engage with the unknown. At this rate we will be forced to move to the motel down the road but it that really a surprize I ask you.I must liberate my little home. I begin with several rolls of extra strength garbage bin liners, noooooo not for the garbage bin but for the son's bedroom. He has probably spent more money on gadgets and technology in one year than would feed an entire village of refugees for the same period of time. I stuff anything on the floor into a few bags and pin a note on the wall declaring “clothes for sale…see your local Salvation Army Shop”. There, now how could he argue with that I ask you, he has helped the poor yet once again. Next I hit the various rooms in search of any books, magazines or newspapers that the local St Vinnies would appreciate.
Then I strike at the main bedroom with a vengence. Now remember…I have not “lived” here for two years. One would expect the master bedroom and ensuite to be in perfect condition. Guess again...my bedroom has become a store room filled with suitcases, exercise equipment and spare "possessions" (but not my possessions). Well what the heck, I am on a roll here and I seem to remember that possession is nine tenths of the law anyway. So after ninty minutes I clear out the junk and leave it in the front yard lol. Revenge is sweet, they will come home and have a heart attack when they see it parked in the front yard. There will be screams of "but it could have been stolen" hehehehehehe tell someone has lots of spare room at their house lol lol. Now I am truely on a roll...time to hit the wardrobe in my bedroom. Being female it doesn't take much to clear out the ward robe and begin restocking again. We women don't need to be told twice that this process should be undertaken several times per year. however, the process is contingent on funding. Based on this premise I might have to go easy in this department. John's wardrobe is an entirely different story though. Mr J loves to "save" clothes should he ever needs them, fair enough however he has grown in every direction in the last 26 years and I have just decided that he therefore won't be needing them. Hence, his life's collection of gross shirts, disgutingly faided jeans with tares in the knees and obscene dress shirts with fluncy sleeves can all go. In all honesty I know that they will also be rejected by the opp shops so the delemma is what to do with them. I know...go straight to the garbage, do not pass go and do not collect $200 lol as the saying goes. I approach his shoes with the same attitude that I attacked his clothes with...out they go! Thank god he won't be back to Sydney for at least 24 more hours lol. By then I am sure that I will have forgotten exactly what happened to them (whistles to myself while looking at ceiling).
Now we can get back to normal here at home. There is room in the wardrobe and space in the loungeroom. Why I can even prepare meals in the kitchen and get up and down the staircase without having to dodge 'em...well the others can anyway lol.The garage will have to wait until I get back from holidays to decluter. Of course it will also have to be a day when the family has gone out again. I can't afford to have witnesses to my crime. Perhaps if the mountains of plumbing pipe, collections of jars full of nails and screws all go missing it would be reasonable to suspect a burglar in the neighbourhood. And of course should any of you repeat this story I will flatly deny it!
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