A feeling of domestic dread

I keep looking round at the chaos that is my room, knowing I have to tidy it but my heart sinking because it will be such a task. Part of my problem is I get halfway through a task and then get distracted. For example, I decided to be brave and go through my books and throw out a lot more, and also try to replace actual books I know I will want to reread with ebooks. Such a hard thing to do, but I started… a couple of weeks or maybe longer ago and now a pile of books on the floor is sitting there looking reproachfully at me.I pick up stones and bits of wood or dried leaves and they come home and sit on the shelf or window sill… and now I can’t remember where I got them from or even their significance.

Why can’t I sort  my sock drawer? I love socks and as people know this they are kind enough to give them as gifts. In fact this year i didn’t have an advent calendar I had a sockmas calendar with twelve pairs of lovely socks for the twelve days of Christmas. There was a joke with each day’s new socks, a brilliant gift… but now the sock drawer is even more full – not counting those unsorted socks in the bottom of the airing cupboard.

My musical tastes have changed over the years, so why don’t I get rid of the old CDs I have, and just concentrate on the newer ones and the favourite ones? Part of the reason is I had a CD case which only took the actual discs, and for some completely forgotten and in hindsight ridiculous reason, I took the paper inserts out of the cases and had them separate… why? What on earth was I thinking of? So now it’s not just deciding which to send to the charity shop, it’s matching the insert with the CD and finding a plastic case for it to go in… I am such a dunderhead sometimes… in the meanwhile, the different piles – CDs, inserts, plastic covers, are gathering dust as i try and summon up the enthusiasm to tackle it..

Then there are the important papers, newspaper cuttings, photos of people from long ago who i don’t know and don’t have any clue how hey relate to me or my husband… the foggy views of an anonymous place with nothing written on the back, the colours faded, pictures of old houses which may have some family significance but as there is no telling where they are of they are meaningless. If I keep photos of people and places I do know will I ever look at them? Will my kids ever be interested in them? Will any of my cousins’ families be interested?

I must be strict with myself, and think positively about how much more room I’ll have when I have done the task – maybe the first of a series of tasks, but I must  think positively!

My featured image is one of my photos… where is this house? Bristol maybe? Why did I take the picture? Did someone famous live there? Was it just an interesting old place? Did I have an idea for a story? Who knows now!

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