Hoarding Hell

I am sat here. Feeling chilled and relaxed on a Saturday morning. Except F has promised to do what I want all day. And here I am, letting him play computer games instead of tidying and organising and painting and all the many other things we should be doing.

I know soon I will muster up some get up and go but for now I am procrastinating, and he sure is not about to stop me.

The questions is - how long can I keep writing this relatively inconsequential drivel and convince myself I am doing something worthwhile?

From where I am sat, I can see the pile of junk to be sorted.... It may have halved in size but there is still an awful lot that needs attacking.... I have woolens in the washing machine waiting to go on the line. And a whole heap of stuff waiting to jump in the machine after....

Old dog beds to go to the animal charity(Little Dog likes sofas and beds way to much). A box of teaching books to go to the education library. Bags of textiles for recycling.

My clothes in the wardrobe fill a tiny amount of space really - because the amount of clothing that actually fits is such a small proportion of what I have. Then you exclude the stuff I don't like or is worn and holey..... Somehow I am disguising how little I actually have under a pile of junk that is of no use to me....

And sometimes it just all seems too much.

Eight and a half years. I think in that time F and I must hardly have thrown anything out..... I am sat in a room with S's toys, no chance of him ever playing with them again. And boxes - why does F insist on keeping boxes that things came in? I can see pristine shoe boxes for shoes that are long dead *laugh*

We could become hoarders. We so could. This is our chance to avert that future.....

Best get on.....