I’m a terrible hoarder. Whilst not quite storing mouldering newspapers, I’m not quite able to throw away university lecture notes, either. Our house is pretty small, so in the twelve(!) years we’ve been living here, things have … accumulated. Over the last few weeks we’ve slowly been de-cluttering ourselves, getting rid of old books, toys, DVDs and the like. It’s making a difference. Our dining room bookcases – once stuffed with my plentiful fiction collection – has now been pared down enough to accommodate the photo frames that had hitherto been collecting dust (quite literally) all across the top.
Obviously, it’s not quite the textbook definition of minimalism, but it’s at least a start.
I’ve also done things I hardly ever do. Like, clear up down the side of the TV cabinet, rather than just on top and inside it. I grabbed the stepladder so that I could dust the TOP of the pictures on the wall. I HATE cleaning glass – hate it hate it hate it – but I’ve been regularly patrolling our sitting rooms mirrors – one above the fire, one running almost full-length on the wall to the kitchen – and trying to keep dirty marks at bay. I started in the dining room, pulling out everything out and cleaning from the top-right corner out. We’ve always had a relatively tidy house, but I’ll admit that in this place, out of sight very much means out of mind. Well, not anymore. BE GONE, HEATHEN DUSTBUNNIES.
I’ve also thrown some fresh paint around the hallway to brighten (and clean) it up (the featured image is the little plague I’ve recently hung in there). M’s been busy too; he’s sanded down the skirting and doorframes downstairs and up, and together we’ve been going through and glossing the woodwork. Together we fixed our decade-broken doorbell, and we’re hoping to paint the stairs and landing over the next few days. It’s busy, but a good busy. So far, we’ve mostly been able to do the DIY with stuff we’ve had lying around the garage, and that’s been the best bit. It feels good to reinvigorate our home with just the expense of elbow-grease and giggles.
It’s terribly cliched, but clearing the house has been helping clear my mind, too. With each swoosh of the paintbrush, I’ve felt better. Happier. Calmer. Hopeful. I’m sleeping better. I know: pride cometh before the fall, and Christ only knows I don’t wanna fall again right now. But that’s what I’ve been feeling nonetheless; proud of my home, and proud of the man who stands beside me.
I am thoroughly in love with my wonderful husband and my beautiful kid. So we don’t have much money. It sucks, it’s horrible, and I hate it, but so what? Never have I felt more blessed or more at peace with my beautiful, incredible, wonderful boys.