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!
