Confessions of A Shopaholic

Regrets?  I've had a few...well quite a few.  Until recently many of them were hanging in my wardrobe, some still had tags.  Fashion faux pas have not been uncommon throughout my life but I have noticed a worrying increase recently.  My mother has confirmed that she too found it difficult to gauge what was the right attire for her AT THIS STAGE OF LIFE!

 

This was not a good thing to say to me and until now I have chosen to maintain a stony silence on the matter.  Recently I downloaded Gretchen Rubin's book, "The Happiness Project" onto my iPad after reading about it on a friend's blog.  I have only read Chapter One which is concerned, in part, with de-cluttering.  She describes how cleansing your life of the detritus accumulated over the years will lift your spirits.  This is not news to me as I have attended to my mental health by regularly cleaning out my wardrobe and, in secret, the wardrobes of other family members.  Please note, the spirits of other family members are not lifted to the same degree as they often spend hours fruitlessly searching for the unflattering, unfashionable, worn out items in their drawers.  I have been warned repeatedly on this matter. The euphoria I experience as a consequence of this de-cluttering is short lived however, as the space created seems to act as a vacuum sucking fresh stuff in to fill the void.

There is also a poignancy about discarding the items which are crammed into cupboards.  Baby clothes are obviously representative of a particular stage and passing them on is closing the door on that part of your life.  I have passed on my baby clothes long since but nostalgia strikes when I look at all the dress ups,the dolls' house and the pony club gear (and the ancient pony).  Cards and books are especially difficult to discard.

Living on a farm does not facilitate a stream lined, clutter free existence.  There are often empty houses, sheds and sea containers in which to store the things you no longer use, wear or need.  My sympathies lie with the unfortunate individuals who have to sort through my possessions when I AM NO MORE!
 

 

Without becoming morbid that is probably as good an  incentive as any to have a major throw out.  We have our own rubbish tip on the farm and it has occasionally alarmed me what future archaeologists will make of some of the discoveries when they excavate the site.

 

 

What will be the legacy you leave behind?