I walked into our dining room this morning and began to hyperventilate at the chaos before me.
It isn’t the first time that I have had a reaction like this to this particular room. It has caused me to weep and despair many times. Actually dining room is a misnomer – we hardly ever ‘dine’ there. Play room/learning room/laundry room/resting place of discarded objects that have no other home would be a better title.
I always feel bad about getting upset over the domestic chaos that reigns in our home. It seems so very shallow to get upset over mess even though I know it has the power to plunge me into depression. It feels faintly embarrassing to blog about it, not because I am ashamed of the mess (well I am really) but because what, in effect, I am complaining about is having ‘too much’. “Feel sorry for poor me. I have too many possessions and no where to put them all” Ugh.
We are expecting visitors this weekend and so I have decided to take drastic action. Or rather, drastic delaying action. It is all going into plastic bin bags and boxes to be stored in our bedroom (with the door firmly shut). The plan is to then maintain sweet order and harmony while at the same time sorting through the detritus in the bags and boxes. Humour me.
My sister arrives from Australia in 4 weeks time and she is a decluttering whirlwind. As the Koala Brothers would say: “Help is on its way!”