Wednesday, November 7, 2012

somewhere in the shed

Everything was packed up to go, but go we didn’t.
There has been a huge, huge great pile of crap in the shed* for 2 and ½ years. Why is there so much crap?
A great deal of it is mine I’m ashamed to say – and I’m not even the one who is a hoarder.

It has been wonderful to mop floors and stuff without having to shift crap. Mind you, if you saw how much crap has trickled back inside, you would be puzzled to hear The Other say she likes the ‘minimalist lifestyle’.

In theory, if you haven’t used something for 2 years you really don’t need it. But this is the wrong theory. For 2 and ½ years the frustrated cry “It’s in the shed somewhere” has been reverberating about the house. Constantly.
On the plus side, there is a whole room upstairs that is still empty! Vacuuming that one is a breeze.

In the past, as shelf space filled up, I would cull books, usually recycling them at a book exchange or via the op shop system. Until we started opening boxes yesterday, I’d no idea just how much shelf space I must have had.

Of course, there is no longer any point in keeping a copy of something like Bullfinch’s Mythology, when it’s easier to Google general info. Out it goes.

We are starting with a car boot sale, using the ‘don’t want it anyway’ approach to pricing. Well, at least that would be a kind interpretation of my ‘if you bring any of this crap back home I’m ordering a rubbish skip’ threat.
[I’ve ordered a skip a couple of times before. I can be unbearable to live with when I get the Irish up.]

We both agree the ‘what can we sell?’ process has been more fun than Christmas. It’s better than opening Christmas presents cos we’re getting a lot of stuff we actually like. Almost every box we opened has caused oohs and aahs of delight.

There are, of course, some non-Bullfinch type things that are irreplaceable.

Here’s something quoted - from a book I’ve never seen – in a book on Systems Thinking [of all things].

© 1993 Portia Nelson, from There’s a Hole in My Sidewalk, Beyond Words Publishing.
[Apologies to Portia – I’ve no idea how to copy the format in Blogger].

Autobiography in Five Short Chapters


I walk down the street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I fall in.
I am lost… I am helpless.
It isn’t my fault.
It takes forever to find a way out.


I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I pretend I do not see it.
I fall in again.
I can’t believe I am in this same place.
But it isn’t my fault.
It still takes a long time to get out.


I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I see it is there.
I fall in… it’s a habit… but my eyes are open.
I know where I am.
It is my fault.
I get out immediately.


I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I walk around it.


I walk down a different street.

* let’s not even think about what’s under the house

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