MOVING may be a chance to clear the clutter, but its easier said than done, writes Fifi Box.
AT the top of my list of ‘tedious things I least like doing’, along with ‘having toe nails ripped out’ and ‘falling into a snake pit’, is moving house. In the past few weeks, I’ve packed every possession I’ve collected during life’s journey, and although the hours of folding and bubble-wrapping are laborious, they’re not as stress-inducing as the emotional warfare involved in culling. Moving may be a chance to clear the clutter, but it’s easier said than done.
When faced with separation, even the tattiest T-shirt can pull at the heart strings, as you recall wearing it on the day you nearly met Bono, when he brushed your arm as he walked past. You know you’re in trouble when you’re drowning in a sea of musty clothes, but still telling yourself you might one day wear your Sydney 2000 Olympics souvenir tracksuit again.
When you’re as sentimental as I am, this process applies to every item. Because emotion always wins, my ‘definitely keeping’ pile rivals Everest, but my ‘throwing out’ pile looks like a speed hump.
This time, I was so overwhelmed and frustrated by the process, I workshopped a new pile concept to help clarify my emotions. My ‘probably won’t use again, but don’t want to throw out’ pile grew so large, it consumed the entire dining room. It seems the saying “You can’t take it with you” hasn’t had an impact on me; I obviously think I’ll have a storage container on the other side.
But as I considered this intimidating pile – which would have looked more at home at the tip – an inner strength kicked in. As if my Ghost of Christmas Future had come to visit, I had a vision of myself walking the streets with a supermarket trolley filled with garbage bags, and realised I had to stop the rot. It all had to go.
Out went the memories, the mildew and the Bono-blessed T-shirt. But nobody warned me that once you break through the emotional barrier and commit to culling, it becomes addictive. As the holiday souvenirs and photos of old boyfriends filled the rubbish bags, I started feeling lighter and refreshed. In a complete 180-degree personality shift, I suddenly found myself throwing everything out. If I hadn’t worn it or looked at in the past 12 months, off it went to stock the shelves of the local op shop.
On completion, I felt like a new woman. It was only when the unpacking started a week later, and I couldn’t find any sheets or towels, that I realised I might have gone a bit too far.
Catch Fifi on Seven Network’s Sunrise and Fifi and Jules on Melbourne’s Fox FM and Sydney’s 2Day FM. Email .
