I have finally found out what I was put on this earth to do. Chuck shit out. No, really, I am exceptionally good at it. Nearly as good as obtaining and hoarding copious amounts of shit in the first place.
See, more than 3 years after we intended, we are actually going to blow this pop stand. Well, that’s the plan. So, we have started to cull in anticipation of the big move.
And minimalism is my new mantra. I have been ruthless. What? You want to take pots and pans? You know that can only lead to cooking right? Because that’s what starts to happen when you start on the chuckingoutpalooza, you lose your shit and reasoning. What's that? Kids summer clothes? No, it’s freaking freezing, ditch. Doona covers? Nope, only need one at a time now don’t we? Oh and a dining table? Since when was that a necessity? Whatever wasn’t nailed down last weekend got turfed in the great cull of 2011.
But then I came across our kitchen drawers. The first two drawers were standard fare of course. Cutlery top drawer, bigger stuff like melon ballers* and potato mashers in the second. But what about the third drawer down of shit? This is where everyone, regardless of nature, will keep some truly inexplicable stuff.
Yeah, we haven’t owned this Printer for over 2 years. Pretty good chance we won’t need to reinstall it anytime soon.
Both Phil and I seem to have access to both of our cars, workplaces and every lock in the house without ever touching any of one of these keys. So what are they doing in the third drawer in my kitchen? Do you see the one that looks like it belongs in Alice in Wonderland? What kind of old timer door does that belong to?
Heaven FORBID I just chuck out the last two remaining blank Christmas cards when it’s all over for another year. I mean, it’s not like they cost about two bucks for an entire pack nowadays. Plus, I’m pretty sure I haven’t sent Christmas Cards in over 2 years, so these has been wallowing in that drawer FOR. EVER.
Hey, clearly I never knew when we’d be called up to some kind of exercise situation that may require not only a sweatband, but one that also had a handy zipper to keep my Panadol in.
What in the actual fuck is this? I do not know. It lives in my drawer, I did not buy it, yet it made it there somehow. Explanations welcomed.
I think I’ve only discovered the tip of the Iceberg in the Allen Key swag in this house. I’m sure there are a bazillion in his trailer or shed or beside him when he sleeps at night. Seriously, you want a flat pack assembled, my husband is your man.
So without any consultation, I am going to go crazy on the third drawer down of shit on the weekend. Batteries will be saved. All the half melted candles, screws, balloons, wrapping paper and out of date Warranties are gone. Gone I tells ya.
How do you keep the crap at bay? Mindset? An obsession with order? Please do tell.
*We've never owned a melon baller in our lives. But I do like the thought of one.