Letting go

The house is a mess.

This is because even with out the CFS I am by nature lazy. And Jimmy has been working too long and drinking too much. It's easier to procrastinate.

But, let's be candid, a lot is to do with hoarding. I hate throwing things out. Part of me is worried about landfill, but frankly, it's too embarrassing for Freecycle and too shabby for Charity shops. I have a laptop, now, so I have thrown away two computer keyboards and we left a monitor by the roadside for 'help yourself'. Three house phones (broken) have been binned, although one retained because of its quaint ability to be used without electricity, no trivial concern. I have retained my first brick-like mobile for nostalgia, but put-to-recycling rolls of half-used Christmas wrapping paper dating back a decade. I still have my referee's whistle from 1970-something, and when I spotted my football boot rubber I did wonder what had happened to my Bryan Robson rubber. I told myself it didn't matter, one doesn't need to hang onto bric a brac in the delusion that there is symbolic value.

I feel I could ditch the case of cassettes taped off the radio during the 1980s, but I can't quite bring myself to that. It would be throwing away my memories.

And then there's clothes. I have approximately fifty tops that are appropriate for work, restaurants, concert halls etc. Perhaps a handful are beginning to look a trifle faded. I also have about thirty t-shirts, football shirts etc that are comfortable and practical for wearing the house (and remember, I am at home more days than I am out). I very bravely ditched seven M&S silk t-shirts I distinctly remember buying to wear under suits, in Ealing. In Autumn 1998. they have long been relegated to the 'wear around the house' pile. But I don't - into the bin. I have thrown three skirts from the mid-90s, because I haven't worn them in god knows how long. I tried one on, it fitted but didn't flatter.

Even so, I still have too many clothes. I ought to employ a strictly one-in one-out system. I can identify lacunae in the wardrobe - decent summer skirt and trousers, that aren't suits, for work etc. I refuse to let go the Sweatshirts, four of which date from 1990 or earlier. Or a yellow jumper I bought as a student. I no longer wear yellow. It never ventures outside the house. But I can't let it go because I'm scared I may need it sometime, just in case the other twenty or so jumpers and cardigans just won't do. I have about a dozen gorgeous pull-'em-up-stick-'em-out bras, and insist of wearing, round the house, misfits, with tired elastic or a missing underwire.

The truth is, I have too many clothes.

But Jimmy is even worse than me!

Comments

[Roger]

Ha, ha! I could have written this about myself (swapping the bras for underpants and the skirts for jeans and army pants, and so on). We too have retained an old phone for its ability to work during power cuts and we've also got rolls of passé wrapping paper laying around in old boxes. I have also been too emotionally wussie to throw away the remains of my early to mid-eighties cassette tape collection, and it's still around somewhere, mouldering in one of those nasty ad-hoc black plastic briefcase-style boxes which were so common back then. However, my footballing bric-a-brac is more likely to feature Bobby Moore and Trevor Brooking than your lot ;)

I like your writing style and the candid nature of your blog. Makes me realise just how much damage a decade or more working with computers does to one's ability to express oneself. Nah, who am I kidding, I couldn't write even before I started working with computers.