Shit, decluttering is dangerous. I decided this morning that I desperately needed to streamline our living space. It started, as it always does, with the playroom. Call me crazy but I just don’t think a 3 year old needs 47 vehicles. Yes, they are all different, and yes, they were all terribly thoughtful and sweet gifts from people who love him. But they are EVERYWHERE and hardly touched due to there being so many of the blinking things my toddler takes one look at the toybox and literally can not be arsed to dig through the mountain to find what he was after so sticks with old faithful (jumping off the sofa onto the dog, a whole other issue!)
Anyway, it all started out very well indeed. He is used to donating toys and books at Christmas and around his birthday so he happily sorted out a bag for the charity shop…and that’s where it all went a bit insane. I got bitten by the decluttering bug! Soon I was flinging things into a bin liner with what might be described as ‘gay abandon’ and it’s got to be said, my husband’s wardrobe didn’t do very well in my attack 😕 In my defense, I only bagged things that he a)hasn’t worn for the past 2/3 years but is hanging onto for random reasons best known to himself or b)things that were falling apart (Calvin Klein pants with exposed elastic anyone? Woo!) or c)that I truly and utterly hated (frankly, the most valid reason in my opinion) I was ruthless with my own things too. Gone are the office sandals I never ever wore but held onto because they looked beautiful (they didn’t fit me properly and should never have been bought), adios to the nude pumps that have been amazing and went with everything but got chewed by an errant labrador 6m ago, so long random scarf that was a Christmas gift 6 years ago but went with absolutely nothing I own. I also bagged random baby bits that have already been outgrown and some tea towels we’ve had since university. Whilst in the kitchen I also binned the frying pan that has been making me swear four times a week for the last god knows how many months (mental note, replace frying pan before dinner time) So all in all, a successful morning, but may be problematic tomorrow when Husband stands infront of his wardrobe at 7am and realises he has no pants and no work trousers. Bugger!