I dare not bore anyone to death with today’s toss list of torn lunchbags, old sunglasses and half-burnt birthday candles. The sheer agony of trying to decide – should I keep just four or five Thermoses – given their different sizes and accessories, just about puts me over the edge.
Seriously? The left side of my brain shrieks at the right. Are you seriously debating the merits of four instead of five Thermoses? Man, you need a day job girlfriend.
Yeah, well, says you, the Right retorts.
Lame, says the Left.
I am overwhelmed, I clean out one cupboard and a single drawer, but instead of feeling the usual surge of energy and lightness that comes with completing such tasks, I feel the heavy weight of dread. There is so much more stuff in this house and I feel crushed by the weight of it.
Does anyone else out there feel like they are living in a warehouse? I mean, apart from the folks appearing on – what’s that TLC show? – Hoarding: Buried Alive. I couldn’t watch that show for more than five minutes. I’d suffer nightmares for months.
I need some fresh air here. An intervention. The undoing of retail therapy (and I’m not even a shopper, for pete’s sakes). I need to call John the Junk Guy and make a date. Yes, that’s the ticket. More on that later in the week. For now, I just need a stiff half-glass of red wine and a good book.