Back in the "summer" I blogged about my determination to declutter my life. I'd signed up at seven things. I have a domestic goddess of my very own who performs miracles on a regular basis every Monday-but the sad truth is that I'm still overwhelmed at the prospect of serious dejunking.
Thus far (3 weeks in, assuming that my "seven things" started on 1st September) I've succeeded in taking 7 books to the British Heart Foundation Bookshop,and setting aside 14 more, and I've also a bag of assorted hats, scarves and the like as another set of 7- which all sounds OK. But the trouble is that I'm tackling this in a completely random, sytem free, Kathryn fashion - so that my uncluttering seems to be almost part of the clutter.
Because of course the issue is far less with my stuff than with the state of my poor addled, endlessly distractible brain. That's what is actually iritating me. That's what makes the domestic junk quite so oppressive. Tis a symptom of my general state of being. On a good day, I tell myself that it simply represents a rich and interesting mix - but at the moment it feels rather more like a state of sad confusion.
Ah well. Pass me the black bin bags.