This is a not edited much repost because – surprise, surprise – two years on and nothing has changed.
We have a lot of stuff; we have always had a lot of stuff. It didn’t matter in South Africa when the Hub had a warehouse attached to his office: we stored everything there and our home looked lovely. It’s not so great now that we live in a three-bed council house.
Part of the problem is that we hang on to things we might need later on, like every plug from every defunct appliance we’ve ever owned. Bear in mind that it is a legal requirement that every appliance sold in this country must come with an integrated plug – hanging on to those plugs is like letting our older children leave home but keeping their feet in case the next one I give birth to needs spare toes.
Okay, that’s ridiculous; but so is hanging on to twenty-five years’ worth of electric waste.
Having built and filled – and filled, and filled – our garden shed many years ago, the stars finally conjoined one day to give us sunshine, everybody home with nothing to do, and me in a we can do this if we only gird our loins and get on with it mood.
I needed to empty the shed so that I had somewhere to store the clutter from the kitchen which had to be emptied before they gave me a new one. The clutter in the kitchen came from the hall when I painted it. The clutter in the hall came from the lounge when I painted it. The clutter in the lounge came from my inability to tie the Hub to his chair and never let him shop. I didn’t have the heart to put the clutter back into the lounge because I was able to see every wall for the first time since Spud was born. I have been shuffling utter crap from room to room for the whole of my married life, and that day I decided it must STOP.
We finished up with several piles:
- For the council tip (if we ever get there)
- Recycling (how many fly blown cardboard boxes do we really need?)
- Freegling (a wonderful system that allows you to offload your crap onto other people before collecting yet other people’s crap to replace it)
- Charity (people who sell crap to those not clever enough to get it for free)
- To sell (to pay for my broken nails)
- Might come in handy at some point if the Hub can hide them from me (he did; it didn’t)
We moved the stuff in the house that we really wanted to keep, into the shed, where it will no doubt stay for many years, until we get our next sunny day. The kitchen isn’t quite cleared but it’s getting there. The hall isn’t quite cleared but it’s getting there. The lounge – well, you get the idea. I’m doing my best and if it sometimes feels as if I’m holding back an avalanche with sheer will and a roll of bin bags, at least it gives me something to blog about.
Now I bring you back to the present: our old shed is rotten and held together only by the crap the Hub managed to stash away two years ago. We bought a new, bigger, better shed. It arrived last month. It is still in its boxes, going mouldy, because it hasn’t stopped raining long enough to erect it.
Crap: the gift that keeps on giving me a headache.
Sheds: the last great hope of my staying married.
Rain: the divorce-maker.
Anyone got a giant marquee they don’t want? I could give it a good home.