I am living in a clutter filled nightmare.
Life is fine when I have not done any laundry for a couple of weeks and the laundry basket is overflowing with towels, clothes and the like. However, fast-forward to the domestic-goddess moment where all of my clothes are washed and (I’d say ironed - but ironing’s against my religion) ready to be returned to a drawer or wardrobe, and I have an almighty problem.
I don’t have enough space.
Actually, correction: I have too much stuff.
My stuff is starting to trouble me. I am beginning to think that more stuff equates to more stress. Each thing I own comes with a small expectation of responsibility. I look into my wardrobe and feel guilt. I glance into my drawers and see my neglect. When was the last time I wore this? Have I ever even used that?
Clothes are my weakness. I have never been one for gadgets, and can think of nothing worse than owning a giant plasma tv. But why do we all own so much stuff? We buy loads of it, most of which we can’t afford, won’t use and definitely don’t need.
We laugh about the old notion of ‘keeping up with the Joneses.’ But nowadays we even give numbers to the versions of things we’re buying so we can track which thing is newer and better and when we are officially out of date. You could say this is Mindless Consumerism 3.0.
I do not want to become one of the breed of people involved in ‘extreme de-cluttering’ or embrace some higher-power-zen notion that I could survive with just what was in my pockets.
I like owning more than one pair of underpants, could never part with my shelves full of tatty books, and would risk my life in a house-fire for my ghds.
But I do want to be able to shut the damned wardrobe.
Of course first I’ll need to fix the wardrobe. Although maybe it’d just be easier to buy a new one?