Let It Go

I had occasion to pass along some rather sentimental, but useful, items to someone who needed them a lot more than me this week. It was difficult watching things I spent time, money and love on choosing, but it was the right thing to do. I’ve been faithfully following the KonMari method for some time now and it has been instrumental in reforming my habits. If I allowed myself to be so, I would keep a lot more of the stuff I love but no longer use. Forcing myself to interact physically with the objects I thought I needed to hold onto in order to maintain a link between my memories and my feelings about the things has been the breakthrough I needed.

I remember reading The Diary of Anne Frank when I was younger and really connecting with her phrase “memories mean more to me than dresses.” I had wrapped up my memories with the dresses (and other things) to such an extent that I came to realise what I really feared was not letting go of the dresses, but that I would lose the happy memories I associated with them. It has been hugely cathartic to find that I have given myself permission to Let It Go after such a long time. The things I gave away this week were, to the person who received them gratefully, simply things, but it was a wonderful feeling to know that they were going to a good home and that the person who now has them will build their own memories with the objects I still have happy memories off.

So if you are afraid to Let It Go, please think about why you have that fear and what you’re really afraid of – is it the thing or the memories associated with it? Fear not, no one can take away the happy thoughts that have come from the objects you once held dear but no longer spark joy.

Let It Go

Soap Star

I have a plethora of makeup brushes, my cleaning of which is too sporadic. One of my orchids is getting around to a job that’s been long-fingered. Today, the job was cleaning these brushes. I asked for some advice on what to use as I never feel they get really clean with my usual method, namely, grabbing whatever liquid or bar soap is on the sink and scrubbing for a while, then leaving to dry. I was recommended Dr. Bronner’s soap. I remember hearing about this stuff before, but had never got around to buying it. In a touch of serendipity, I happened upon a bottle of the stuff in a discount shop today and my brushes are soaking as I type. I’m skeptical about the bottle’s claims to be as all purpose as the wordy label suggests, and the whacky religious stuff isn’t something that sells a product to me, but I shall report back on the efficacy of the product itself and ignore the label. It is a nice lavender colour, though.

Soap Star

It Would Be So Nice

I’m staring a month of holiday time in the face. Circumstances have pushed me to take almost four weeks paid leave from work. Plans include ever more decluttering, some hairdresser time and doing couch to 5k. Since I got married almost five years ago my running habit has all but disappeared. This week I decided to resume it and I’ve earmarked Tuesday as the day to start it. It would be so nice to get properly back into shape by the time I’m back in work.

It Would Be So Nice

Good Job

I dread performance reviews for my job. I have a pretty good work ethic and care about my job a lot. I also like my job and I want to keep it, so I always get a little stressed when my annual review comes up. I probably shouldn’t worry so much, but I am a worrier and there’s not much I can do to change this – trust me, I’ve tried.

Anyway, today was a good day and my review went smoothly. In fact, it went much better than I expected and I got some very welcome positive feedback. I’ve had a lovely afternoon as a result. I decided to treat myself to an hour alone with a book and a nice lunch in l’Gueuleton. It was delicious, as the food here usually is, and it was a very good use of my lunch break. Good job, l’Gueuleton.

Good Job

The Good Room

We are hoping to move house soon. Our current home, which we love but is becoming a little too small for us, has a very open layout. We have a living and dining room and a tiny kitchen. I am dreaming of the day when two of us can be in the kitchen together without bumping into each other constantly. One thing we will have in our future home is a separate sitting room. I have already called this The Good Room and I cannot wait to sit in it, reading or watching television or something else, and its sole purpose being that of relaxation. I am dreaming of built in bookshelves, candles flickering and a sofa we can curl up on. I often scoffed at the idea of having The Good Room, which in many homes in decades past meant a musty room that was never used by the family, precious space was instead kept in near mint condition for occasions of importance. While I don’t see the sense in preserving valuable space for rare events only, having one room that doesn’t need to be constantly useful strikes me as a luxuriously pleasant notion.

The Good Room