I have been watching myself a little closer lately. It seems that I am fine with certain tasks, that are a routine. Like laundry. Like cleaning the downstairs bathroom. But I am afraid it already stops there. Little things already throw me off track. Like throwing away the kitchen sink sponge and realizing I don't have a new one. Or my morning routine. Ever since we switched bedrooms with the girls I can't just start in the bedroom and then work around counter clockwise. Why would it feel wrong to start with their room now?
Today I have planned to whiz through the first 4 rooms in 10 min (it would have been possible) so I would have 40 min to clear the landing. I went over the things that were there in my mind the night before and I think 40 min should have done it. Worst case I would have gotten 10 more from the stairs and 10 more by skipping the playroom. What did I do? I climbed up into the attic and used up 30 min that were mentally so draining that I had to run off to the backyard to plant my tomatoes.
Well. There is always tomorrow.
surface of the day: a basket full of stuff in the attic (unfortunately I churned quite a bit)
5 a day: at least 20 if not more random bits and pieces (a lot less that should have gone)
Realizing I was a hoarder was both a shock and a relief. A shock, because nobody wants to have a mental disorder. A relief, because my situation finally had a name. I found people who could relate. Knowing the problem helps solving it. I can step aside and look at the situation from a more neutral point of view. Why am I blogging about it? 2 reasons. 1. Putting my thoughts into words helps me think more clearly. 2. If this helps just one, who is like me, see the light it was more than worth it!
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