Hoarders ... my own reality TV show

In my mind, this is how my junk looks.
(In reality, it looks rather neat compared to this)

How can you still be getting stuck in life at my age?  Honestly! When will I grow up already?

When I was a kid, I always imagined a 50+ woman to be on top of it all. Her routine would be well and truly worked out. Her house would be organised and function like clockwork. Perfection would have been worked out so that everything she did was effortless.

So how can you get to my age and still have a spare bed covered in washed clothes that never quite made it to the wardrobe? How can you have a pantry that is disorganised and in need of a grand cleanout after only living in this house for six months? How can I have boxes of unknown and lost things in two rooms of my house, stacked on the veranda, stuffed in no order at all in one of my stables? Cupboards still with stuff at the old house?

I blame the fact we still have not moved properly. We still have a quarter of a house at the old place. And you know what? The stuff I still have there, if I have not missed it yet, then do I really need it? Is it really important. There are still flat packs of Ikea wardrobes on the veranda, yet to be made into three dimensions so I have storage. We still have both son's stuff stored here.

Here's your sign.

This weekend I am doing my very own hoarders makeover. I am getting a great big tarp, spreading it out on the lawn. I am getting trestle tables and a whole pile of plastic storage crates. I have labels and black markers at the ready. There is a film crew coming to record my tears and tantrums. There will be a bossy lady yelling at me 'do you really need this!'. (not really, she will be in my head only)

I will drag out every box, pile and bit of stuff from all the places I have them stashed and I will go through each and every item. I plan on getting rid of at least a third of it, so if you want stuff ... come visit me Sunday afternoon ... it will be on the verge.

I will stack all the keeping stuff into plastic boxes, label it so I can find what I want (like all our birth certificates, marriage certificates and important documents that I know are somewhere but I can't find) and store them in a neat order on shelves in the storeroom set up in one of my stables.

Only then, can I end all this chaos in my mind. I can end trying to keep tabs on my junk. It is a terrible infliction, and I don't know why we do it to ourselves. My son asked me why I get so stressed about stuff I can't see? I never thought of it like that. I just know that I have these mental tabs on where it all is and it's bugging me like hell.

Living simply, starts this weekend.

... and they all lived happily ever after ...