We returned from holiday and I opened the front door after a fortnight away to discover… exactly what I had left behind.
While the apartment may have been the same as in December, I was clearly not. The mess in the living room made my skin crawl and the overflowing cupboards upstairs had me wondering how I was ever going to find my underwear in the utter darkness that characterizes the British morning.
(Note that I cannot turn on the bright lights in the hallway for fear of waking my daughter up before time. I use electric lighting, I’m frugal – not a caveman).
As I sought to find a square centimetre of space in which to squeeze my wearable Christmas gifts, I felt a growing frustration. A sense of “I’m fed up and it’s all too much” that had probably been creeping up on my since the middle of last year.
I needed to… something… I was struggling for a half-remembered temporary obsession from a few years back. There’s a writer who talks about this. Super-nice Japanese lady… If I can just remember her name…
Ah. There it is.
Marie Kondo. My wife owns the book: The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying
I needed to Kondify my storage. That would be a decent starting point.