Perhaps partly in response to the uncontrollable sneezing I’ve had for a couple of months, and partly because I got up to the next book in my pile, Marie Condo’s The Life-changing Magic of Tidying, I’ve been doing a bit of decluttering and damp dusting recently.
I have achieved a cull of the girls’ summer clothes, with their help, and of my own clothes, ruthlessly giving away some that I’ve had for years, even though they’re not worn out yet. I liked her advice to throw out items that ‘don’t spark joy’ and I agree with her that this can enhance our happiness in life, and perhaps be transformative to addressing other aspects of our lives – I haven’t got far enough through the process to decide. I’m looking forward to giving away 50 books that we’d never read, so that the bookshelves are manageable; rehousing the craft stash that we never use; reviewing Rhea’s whole cupboard of wrapping paper and random outgrown-or-rarely-used toys. I think we can fit better in our small house with our existing storage space, as long as we jettison all the items we don’t use. I’m keen to see if this is true. And I am supplementing it with damp dusting because I realise this has been missing since we had the girls almost eleven years ago.
I do think that the book misses three important points, however. Firstly, it’s clearly not informed by living with children. A statement like hers saying that a good clean out only needs to happen once could not have been made by a carer of children. Secondly, she doesn’t really address the root cause of household accumulation, which I would say includes that we don’t like to waste things. I’ve heard that at least in some parts of Japan, there are nine recycling categories, and if that’s the case, then perhaps this is a non-issue for this Japanese author. This is particularly front of mind for me as I’ve also recently read Ronni Kahn’s memoir, A Repurposed Life, which describes the appalling waste of untouched food that prompted her to switch from events management to harvesting leftovers on an industrial scale. Finally, there is no reference to hoarding as a mental illness, although she describes a case which could fall into that category.
I’ve interspersed this labour with quite a few treats this month. We saw Hamilton in Sydney, staying with Steve’s aunt and her partner and also squeezing in a visit to the art gallery. We went to our first Australia Chamber Orchestra concert in more than a year, life-affirming Beethoven and Schubert. We had a Mother’s Day lunch with the family in a winery in the country. The four of us had High Tea at the Hyatt on a beautiful autumn afternoon, making a valiant attempt at the cucumber sandwiches, beetroot bites, pink macaroons, chocolate squares, scones with jam and cream, and opera slices with our soft drinks (for the girls) and sparkling wine followed by cappuccinos for us.
And now we are at the coast for the long weekend with the family, staying in a house that is entirely white except for the odd indoor plant. It’s on the bay in which a small yacht and two catamarans are bobbing. We’ve been outside for lunch at the pub, we’ve been sheltering from the cold inside, including in a room with larger-sized screen and pullout armchairs watching The Simpsons and Friends Reunion. The girls are in heaven.
I’ll pop in more things to look forward to in June and July, to offset all of my tidying work and dusting, and the upcoming mental and administrative load that comes with marking the girls’ birthday.
