Marie Kondo Ruined My Life
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| This book ruined my life |
I love shopping, shopping makes me happy, I am good at shopping ...lets not be modest I'm exceptionally good at shopping. My favourite smell in the world is not the smell of Chanel thats my second favourite . My most favouritest favouritest smell in the whole wide world is the smell of new clothes the delicate aroma that drifts up as you snip of the tags off .... sheer bliss.
My mum Is also great shopper too but she is more disciplined than me . She has a rule that if you buy anything you have to throw something out. This concept is totally alien to me I would rather chew my own arm off than part with one of my lovely treasures I forgot to mention I have fabulous taste !!
My home is filled with wardrobes and these are jam packed the rafters . Surplus garments spilling out are relegated to clothing rails , these are like the ones you see in shops. Oops not forgetting those hoover bags, I got from costco that let you store stuff taking up a 1/4 of the space. Quite handy they suck the air out vacuum packing the clothes so compact you can't see whats in them or remember what you put in them. I suppose reflecting now It's where you send clothes to die. The great Abyss that is the vacuum storage bag. Then the unmentionable happened I had a huge clearout. I'm still coming to terms with it I think I'm suffering the after effects. I'm convinced i'm suffering PTSD disorder (post traumatic stress disorder).
Have you ever seen that TV Program called 'Hoarders'? Well I watched a 7 hour Hoarders marathon back to back. It absolutely petrified me . Maybe my love of clothing was getting out of hand. The wardrobes that take over every room in my house would engulf it. When I'm old I would be found dead under a pile of DVF wrap dresses my face half eaten by a mangy cat . Not that I have a cat but from dramatic purposes of this story I will have a cat. These people their homes groaning under the weight of their junk. Lets get this right , their belongings are absolute "Tat" pizza boxes , rusty bicycle tyres , random dolls heads minus the body and the like. These Hoarder people have too much stuff they have to make these pathways to get through their houses . I started to panic sure hadn't I just stood on the heel of an upturned stiletto , nearly breaking my neck on the shoe I left by the front door . The stiletto booby trap , waiting patiently for me to be barefoot before 'taking me out' Maybe I have the 'hoarding' gene. Maybe it's lying dormant . Maybe it's waiting to spring into action....
The next thing I Know i'm driving to the Trafford Centre and purchased the Maria Kondo book 'The Life Changing Magic of Tidying Up'. It changed my lifeI read the first two chapters It gave my brain clarity I need to only keep what I love . I went through my home like whirlwind. I stayed up all night discarding no less than 20 wheelie bin bags of stuff . I was a the rubbish tip that morning 8am waiting for it to open. Giddy from lack of sleep car loaded down with bags of stuff apparently I didn't love. Or I probably did love only lack of sleep told me I didn't love, plus i'm a very fickle person . Fur CoatBig Knickers was nearly called Fur coat No Knickers as everything was lashed out!! My sister works in a charity shop I had car loaded with the decent stuff most still with tags on ready for her to take into work.
My home was so empty my sister said it rattled !! Days later the euphoria of ridding my house of belongings long gone. The stark realization that every thing I went to look for I'd binned .
Visiting my mum , my sister arrived looking stunning in a wonderful top and jacket "Ooh their lovely sis , I like them". " Thanks they where in those bags I and love that bag of dior glosses and make up you got rid of thanks sis"!!! "thats my bloody make up bag i've been looking everywhere for it give it me back!!". The worse thing is now I'm better I keep asking my sis for everything back I see her wearing. My next stop is going to the charity shop to try and buy some of my stuff back. I think you can describe me as cured . My sister said its not called cured its called being an "Indian Giver"!!
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