Because my flat is on the market I have, for nearly a year, been keeping my house “de-cluttered”.
The phrase makes me feel so very cliched I can barely stand it, however the home sellers Bible, if there were such a thing, would doubtless say “Thou shalt make your house look like a friendly show home on the holy Sabbath betwixt the hours of 2pm and 4pm (for Lo, that is when viewings are), lest the Devil smite ye with Market Issues. Eth.”
Over the past couple of weeks we have been undertaking the mammoth task of chucking all the crap which seemed so worth keeping at the time, even though we hoiched out masses of useless tat as we got the house ready for sale last April. There was loads. Multiple van-loads of shite. We took it to the dump, dumped it and Paul took whatever he wanted to keep back to his mum’s house to store there for free: the best kind of storage.
The act of clearing the storage facility was both upsetting and cathartic. There’s been the weight off the mind of knowing you have 80% less shit to your name, the extra money coming from not having to pay for the evil storage facility and the extra steo towards separation, which I think we both welcome in a bitter-sweet way.
Of course there’s also the trawling through the wedding photos, the deciding who keeps the wedding china, the gifts, the furniture we pored over together.
That bit I did not enjoy. I’m a monkey’s uncle if he did either, but for some reason we both hide it phenomenally well.
Anyway, now that the last load is gone and my poor, put-upon mother has taken away the last of the things I had which were worth keeping; my piano, my teaching books and equipment and my trophies mainly, I’m left with a surfeit of books and bumpf which I’d forgotten all about, thus proving that I really don’t need it.
My beautiful Ibanez Blazer guitar, and about a bazillion books which I wouldn’t miss if they disappeared tomorrow.
I try to imagine, if I were out on my ear tomorrow, free and clear, no debt and enough money to fuck off abroad and disappear, what would I miss. Nothing. Nothing at all.
The only thing preventing me from chucking the lot in the bin is the fact that my flat would look a bit bare, and that I really am not affluent enough to throw away books and instruments which could make me a bit of cash.
If you’re not aware of this site, you should be. All books are £3.75 including postage (unless they’re massive hardbacks) and are sold by individuals such as myself all around the country. It’s the perfect way to recycle, look after the environment and get cheap books!
I have spent this evening adding… ooooh, at a guess…. 200 books to this site, identified only 25 which I’d really want to keep and chuckeed a furtehr 50 or 60 into a suitcase to leave at the charity shop.
It’s a nice feeling, cutting some ties from material things. If I can manage that in other areas of my life, perhaps I’ll be a step closer to being content.
And if that guitar sells….. I can buy my pole 🙂