It’s not Marie Kondo

In the last few days I’ve taken four bags of stuff to every charity shop in town (there are 8) and two car loads to the warehouse one out of town. And I’m no where near finished.

You would imagine that donating that much to charity would make you feel virtuous; as though you are doing something good. Not me. No, I feel guilty. “I’m sorry. I’ve got another bag,” I say, “Thank you so much for taking this.” I’d really like to be able to put it somewhere without having to talk to anyone at all but that’s not possible.

The shop volunteers like to talk to you. It’s probably why they volunteered in the first place. Other people probably like a chat; people who aren’t social awkward and in the middle of a death related breakdown. (Sorry, I know I wasn’t going to discuss it anymore). Questions about gift aid don’t seem relevant. Can you sign up to gift aid when donating things that aren’t yours?

I’m a fan of a de-clutter. There’s nothing I enjoy more than re-organising my sock drawer. You always feel better about yourself once you’ve got your pants organised.  I’m not a natural, though. I’m not one of those polished people, who never has a hair out of place and has a perfect clean and tidy home in matching pastel colours. I have to work at it and often I forget. When my children were small Mum and I enjoyed reading about Feng Shui and were fans of Karen Kingston, the de-cluttering guru of the time. Now, there’s a new sage of the spotless: Marie Kondo.

“Are you doing a Marie Kondō?”
“We’ve had lots of donations lately. It’s probably Marie Kondō.”

Why aren’t there chocolate handprints on her sofa?

I bit my tongue. I didn’t shout, “It has nothing to do with a perfect Japanese woman, who I’d love to ridicule but secretly admire. It's death cleaning.”

I’m grateful to Karen Kingston, as I’m sure future generations will be to Marie Kondō. My parents didn’t have a loft stuffed full of empty boxes, broken suitcases, outdated computers and bits of wire. They did keep things that ‘sparked joy’ as Kondō would say, which presents its own challenges when it comes to death cleaning. What do you do with every copy of The Artist Magazine dating from 1968?

The idea of only keeping things that spark joy seems to be completely turned on it’s head when you are doing death clearing. If you pick something up and tears prick at your eyes, you have to keep it.

Clear the Clutter.

There is nothing more therapeutic than doing a great big tip run.  Getting rid of all the stuff you don't need any more, making room for new things.

The TV shows where people have so much stuff they can't get into bed fascinate me.  A lot of my hoarding comes from laziness.  I genuinely can't be bothered to throw stuff away.  The Long Suffering Husband keeps bits of wood and rusty screws because, "you never know when they might come in useful."  He would only reluctantly throw away something that was broken because, "I could fix that!"  He also keeps the cardboard boxes from when we've bought large expensive items, "just in case they need to go back."  We can't be the only couple in the world to have a box for a Commodore 64 computer in the loft.

When throwing stuff away there is always a frisson of fear, a  thought that nags away, "What if I need it?" I think this is worse for people from poorer backgrounds.  Could it be an inherited genetic survival instinct?  If you don't know where your next jam sandwich is coming from you don't throw away the crusts just in case you are hungry tomorrow.

To cure myself of my hoarding habit I bought a simple little book by Karen Kingston called Clear Your Clutter (although some would argue that as I hoard books more than anything else it's not really a great purchase in the attempt to clear the rubbish) .  Her advice really helps me to clear my wardrobe out regularly.  She says that if you haven't worn it in a year you are not likely to and that you should give it a 3 month warning.  If you still haven't worn it then it needs to go.  I don't suppose this would work if you collect clothes, or shoes or handbags because then you are keeping them because you love them and not because you are too lazy to throw them away.

A Level Notes

When my daughter finished her A levels I suggested that she throw her notes away and make a bit more space in her room.  "But what if I fail?" she said.  "Then your notes were rubbish and you need to make more."  My Dad said, "Oh no, don't get rid of them, you never know when you might need them.  I've still got all my notes on how to work a telephone exchange in the loft.  If I ever need them I know where to find them."  As he hasn't used them in 40 years she agreed that maybe there was no point in keeping them but would wait until after she had her results.

"Why don't you have a burning party?" I stupidly suggested.  "You can BBQ and all burn your notes.  It will be therapeutic!"

That is what is happening right now, outside my patio doors.  As I sit and type this, the Long Suffering Husband is enjoying what he says is like Big Brother on a huge screen.  It looks fun.  The whole garden and house is filled with smoke, the box of notes is slowly emptying, food is being eaten and Prosecco being drunk.

There are people bouncing on the trampoline, swigging from bottles of WKD and toasting flumps over the incinerator. It makes me wish I was young again.

There is only one thing that worries me.

Who would store a toddler in a plastic box?