Ok ladies. I’m hoping I’m not alone in this, because if I am I will be horribly ashamed (not really. Well maybe a little.)
The Bathroom Cabinet.
We moved into this house five years ago, and in that time the bathroom cabinet has slowly but surely accumulated crap, until it got to the point where you couldn’t open the doors without a whole bunch of stuff falling out. So then I just started accumulating things on the top of the counter, but last week hubby put his foot down.
I woke on the weekend to find two boxes in the bathroom, one, he told me, to put things in I wanted to keep, and the other for things that had expired/were practically empty/were no longer needed. I couldn’t help but notice that the box for disposal was considerably larger than the box for keeping. Hmm.
In the book, Elspeth extolls the virtues of decluttering your home. She’s not the only one, a book I read last year, The Happiness Project, also praised the benefits of a clear house, not just clean, but clear of all the surplus crap we collect over time, things we keep that we have no need/use for, or because we find them pretty and decorative. A clear house = a clear mind, basically.
A few months ago in Summer I had a declutter of my wardrobe. No small feat I assure you. It drives hubby bonkers when I open the doors, stare at hanger upon hanger and shelves stuffed with clothes, and announce, “I have nothing to wear”. As all women do I’m sure.
Anyway, the wardrobe is now a few rubbish bags lighter, and I felt very virtuous stuffing the clothes into a clothing bin where all proceeds go to Child Cancer. Hubby was very bemused about some of the things I refused to dispose of for ‘sentimental reasons’. All of them too tight/too short/too sparkly/too see through/too strappy. All remnants from my days on the cruise ships and club med seven years ago, when I was about 30 kilos lighter. I just can’t throw them, I can’t. They are, in my opinion, seriously fashionable and they bring back wonderful memories. Anyway, perhaps one day I will have an eight year old daughter who needs to dress retro for a school mufti day. Perhaps.
I was a little more ruthless with the bathroom, throwing things like bright turquoise eyeshadow (also a remnant from club med days) that I had hung onto ‘because it used to look so cool’. Half of the cupboard was full of mousses/sprays/gels/serum/surf hair products for long, curly ringlety hair. Which I no longer have. So out they went.
Out went the empty body shop moisturiser containers that I kept because they smelt and looked pretty.
Out went the collection of shoe shines/sewing kits/shower caps from various hotels. All of which I had once declared would come in very useful one day but which were now covered in grotty spilt hair products.
Also out went the Jennifer Lopez perfume with a teaspoon of perfume left in the bottom and which I brought approximately 11 years ago, also the CK One, probably just as old and now an interesting shade of urine colour.
The cupboards, I’m proud to announce, are now spaciously empty, clean, and as I teased hubby, just asking to be filled again.