Two words – Spring Clean. This will be a good way to find out if Papa Bear actually reads my ramblings here. Usually if I ask him, “oh did you catch my blog today?” I hear a mumbling of “Em Yeah, what was it about again?” To which I discover he did actually open the link, hooray, but only skimmed through the text picking up key elements so he could nod yes and be compliant in the good husband stakes. He was my second subscriber (Hi to my first *waves to Grandma Bear*) and a guinea pig to see what the email looked like when I hit publish. FYI – self promo moment – if you want those emails you can subscribe to the blog but who needs more repetitive strain from hitting the trash icon! If you want to read me, you’ll find me. Anyway, I’ve digressed a little… I did say Spring Clean didn’t I! Surely I’ve suitably pissed off Papa Bear now but let’s see if he reads more!
So, it’s February and St Brigid has well and truly put her mark on every house in Ireland. Its officially springtime. The days are getting longer (yes I’ve annoyed even myself by pointing out the obvious) and I can see the crap and trash and serious clutter that has taken over our house, our garden, our attic.
A clear out is in order! Papa Bear will be happy to hear (incredible sarcasm here. Shame it doesn’t come across so well in text) that I will be ordering a skip once our handyman confirms when he’ll be popping over to trim – dismantle, destroy, burn, exorcise, do whatever he wants – with our incredibly overgrown hedging which wraps around our entire 1/2 acre.
Don’t tell Papa Bear. He’ll go nuts when he realises what I’m up to. If funds stretch, which I always say they do but I may dip into the Christmas 2018 fund, I’m hoping to get an overhaul on the ridiculously untameable garden and chuck a tonne of unwanted, unusable crap-ola which we’ve brought from one house to another between moves. Why? What was the point in keeping some of these gaudy memories and dragging them through furniture couriers?
Of course, I’m somewhat delighted that this gives me the opportunity to turn the house upside down and shake it all about (Little Miss singing the hokey pokey has rubbed off on me). Frantic spring clean, here I come!
And frantic it will be because let’s face it, Papa Bear has not agreed to this in the slightest. But he’s not going to get a veto this time either.
So spring cleaning may be one of the best ways to piss off my other half but what itches his beard even worse is when I get an idea in my head and won’t sway from it. Ok, hands up, I completely agree that a stubborn, neat freak who gets excited about the prospect of filling up a skip on a Saturday is frustrating. Annoying him is not my modus operandi so surely he’ll forgive me when he sees how productive I can be with one skip!
For me, what’s more frustrating is visualising that full skip, which happily goes into landfill or recycling or wherever the heck those skips end up, and then looking around my house and seeing how we could really benefit from being a zero waste home. Not that that’s going to happen anytime soon.
There are three old car seats in our attic, a Christmas tree that’s seen better days, a mountain of mismatched, pointless and unused toys, a broken boiler motor, empty boxes from our move two years ago, a demolished and torn apart canopy which one or two of our 2017 storms ripped through, and god knows what else being stored in this house.
Stored for what? To be gotten rid of someday. And someday ends up being next year and the year after and the year after and then pushed on into infinity.
Well, sorry Papa Bear but the time has come. It’s spring. Time to detox our house.
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