After weeks and weeks of decorators in and outside, I now have two clutter free nicely decorated bedrooms which are a joy to walk into.
In fact, I could well move in to either pending Prodigal Son’s and Eldest Daughter’s returns. I love empty rooms. I once lived for 18 months in a bare studio flat in Paris with a piano, two cushions, a duvet and a mini fridge. It was blissful.
Unfortunately, there is a counterpoint to the calm emptiness of the two rooms. The disaster zone on the landing where all books and clothes have been temporarily stored. It looks like an alien invasion.
I have been walking through this mess for the weeks and weeks of decorating activity, quite happy because there was no point feeling overwhelmed by something I could do nothing about. But all that has changed. Now I have to face this chaos, these piles, and get everything back.
Or maybe not. I’m still a Flylady follower. And I like to see the positive in every negative situation. And it’s much easier to take back in only that stuff which should go back in. I feel a bit bad that it’s going to be me making these decisions about what’s to go and what’s to stay. But honestly: will any of it really be missed?
So I will quietly engage on a massive decluttering exercise -yet another one, as far as these rooms are concerned- and try to retain that zen-like calm currently prevailing behind closed doors.