Is the universe playing tricks on me or are my possessions secretly cloning themselves?
I'm moving flat in the next few months and, as I mentioned in a previous post, I'm trying to get my flat in a rent-out-able state. I need to get the hole in my chimney (a bi-product of the new boiler I had fitted at the end of last year) converted into a fireplace (the ornamental 'stick a few candles in it and it'll look lovely' kind) and new flooring laid in the kitchen (also a new boiler side-effect). I also need to paint the whole place magnolia (even though I swore I'd never paint my flat magnolia). But hey, if I'm going to be a landlord I need to do things by the 'keep it neutral' book).
In my mind I imagine potential tenants floating through my flat, admiring the fresh, clean paintwork and the tasteful minimalist decoration.
Instead my flat is a riot of STUFF.
It's everywhere. Six years worth of books, cds, clothes, dvds and paperwork filling every bookcase, shelf, chest of drawers, wardrobe and cupboard. There are piles of paper on the printer, the coffee table, the desk and the floor. It's arranged reasonably neatly but there's no doubt about it - I have too much stuff and minimalism laughs in my face.
Time for Operation Sort It Out.
A few weeks ago I sorted through all my clothes and filled two bin bags to go to charity. This evening I decided to go through my wardrobe...and filled another bin bag.
The more I throw or give away the more it mounts up. I've written a list of 'things to do' as well and the more I cross off the more I add.
Sod WhatsHisName pushing a boulder up a hill for eternity - this is hell!