Several years ago, the professional organiser I hired told me that we needed to throw out 60% of our stuff. She was completely and absolutely wrong then and she is wrong still, but she might be a bit closer to right than I really thought she was.
I thought that the first room I attacked would be the bathroom. I did start to clear it, but then Fate intervened. In the form of the technicians who showed up to install our new FTTP (yay) National Broadband Network Internet Connection. So Fraser’s side of the study (which the girls use too – I am ABSODEFINALUTELY not blaming F for ALL the chaos here) went from this
In about half an hour.
And then I got excited and cleared my desk off. Except for the cats.
There is no before-photo of my desk. Whew.
And now I am working on The Chair. You know The Chair. The place (other than Mummy’s desk) where everything gets dumped. And I do mean everything. In our house, it’s even worse, because it is around a corner so you don’t even have to look at it. I found dirty clothes, clean clothes, new clothes that didn’t fit, my notes from my honours thesis (that I threw out the first time the professional organiser came, but later retrieved), my original HSC results certificate, empty plastic storage containers … even a parachute and a pair of mop slippers. I’m trying to do a bit every day but so far it has gone from this
I can see the progress. And I can explain each and every thing that is there, and WHY it is there, which is more than I could before. Even better, I know that there are FOUR empty storage boxes and an old broken shelf there. Fraser has promised to put the shelf out in the garage (our staging location for big purges), and I am sure I can find uses (or at least a home) for the plastic storage boxes.
And meanwhile, I am contemplating a Shed. And a Garage Sale. Or just intimate first-name acquaintance with the local charity drop-off points.