This time of year fills me with a sudden desire to get angry at my drawers and start de-cluttering. I also get angry at Mary-fucking-Poppins and the standards she so nonchalantly chucked out there in 1964.
I try and be “together” and organised but in reality, I get up at 5.30, feed my cats, put some slap on and go to WORK. When I get home I don’t slip into domestic bliss. I’m too tired. Last night I stirred my chamomile tea with a lip-gloss.
But, this morning after unrolling myself from a super-king-size ‘It’s the weekend’ caterpillar, I had a few leisurely coffees (amusingly this Limited Edition Coffee was called HueHueTenango from Guatemala) and did some ‘stuff’. Cut grass, cleared small corpse-cat-gifts from my patio, and drank some more weeweetingaga.
Then I attacked my drawers. So the ‘my week in list form’ consists of what I chucked out in the last ten minutes.
- 8 pairs of black leggings (I kept two)
- Four belts (I haven’t worn a belt since 1982)
- A red scarf/glove/beanie set (I have red hair so really, this never gonna happen)
- Several scarves
- Five cardigans (last worn 1998, probably)
- Several teeshirts from multi-packs where the third shade was ‘light wtf blergh’.
- Three pairs of pyjamas last worn 2003 (I know because I lived in hotels around then)
- Several flowery, printy blouses and whatnot from my ‘trying to be a girly girl’ phase (2010)
- A fricken bikini (1992 was the only and last time I wore one of those)
What I kept was pretty impressive and jolly sensible. My challenge later will be to bag the stuff up without giving anything a 48576th chance.
‘Oh…maybe I will wear that…’