I don’t want to steal Magpie’s thunder: We are to be treated by him to a session in decluttering.
Despite appearances to the opposite I like order, at least as interludes in between chaos, and my mind suffers if I don’t know where to find things. The last few days have been turmoil. Nearly thirty years ago I bought a Bambi; no, not the little orphaned deer but a tiny stapler. It’s red (I refuse to refer to it in the past). It is now nowhere to be found. Unfortunately I have tendency to become obsessive and will not give up – though I know full well that whilst wading through three years’ worth of paper cuttings in the last few weeks little Bambi will – no doubt – have fallen into waste paper basket – contents now disposed of. Can I leave it be? Is it possible to go and buy, at 2.99, another Bambi (different shape and grey)? No, I can’t and yes it is. Instead of which I have turned our flat inside out; I even took the sofa apart (which made me vacuum the hidden parts). I found many things alas no Bambi. Let’s assume – for sake of argument – that I (since I don’t like my LARGE stapler) go and buy a new, if grey, Bambi and I bet my bottom Dollar that no sooner will I have ripped package open (red) Bambi will reappear.
One can build a whole philosophy and outlook on life on the above if one were so inclined. Instead of which I keep looking and decluttering as I go along.
Other than that am in stinking foul mood as to the obscene idiocy of my fellow human beings. There is not a bucket large enough to catch my tears. Am now in two minds what to do. Shall I turn my worst critical self towards the uncomprehending or enjoy the hermit’s nest? This is where you have to hand to teachers: Hope over the elusive. Let’s leave it there lest I make further enemies.
That’s why I love our den (top floor with a view).