We’ve ordered a council hard refuse kerbside pick up. It’s happening this Friday.
What that means is there will be a flurry of sifting, sorting, decluttering. A process of deciding what has to go. What might go. What must be kept. I started that yesterday. There are little, and not so little, piles of stuff scattered around the place, inside and out.
Plant pots no longer used. My creaky old bones and joints no longer want to do more than necessary. So the pot plants have been seriously culled. I have kept some old favourites that refuse to die in spite of my questionable gardening skills. One in particular has survived over 40 years. That one deserves a medal. And a repotting come spring.
The Retired Husband (TRH) has a favourite saying come spring time. “Oh – you bought more plants to kill!” I used to be outraged. I do not aspire to kill anything. Except maybe unwanted house invaders like white ants. OMG that was a horrid tale of destruction that went on for months. And a full scale military style extermination assault. And forced serious decluttering.
Old indoor furniture has been replaced. They lay in the carport awaiting their munch, crunch fate. Yay! Rusting old outdoor furniture no longer used is also lying in wait. Unless some passer by decides they want to rescue and repurpose them. They are most welcome.
In amongst this flurry of sifting and sorting, himself has re-engaged his ManCave renovater self. He is busy getting on with doing stuff inside. Like repainting and/or replacing old doors. Soon we will be renovating his office. That will be an undertaking of herculean proportions.
It does feel good to let go of ‘stuff’ that is just hanging around unloved and forgotten.
Release the old