I’m not getting very far with the post-holiday cleaning blitz. The house, particularly at the top, in the girls’ bedrooms, is a tip. It’s not just a case of needing more bin bags unfortunately. Though that would help. The problem feels bigger, more fundamental than that. I always knew that we were a family of collectors – our house is a minimalist’s nightmare – but I worry that without realising it we have actually become hoarders, which is a far more disturbing state of affairs. I am chipping away at the hoard and the hall is filling up with fat sacks to go to charity, but it’s a thankless task.
In an earlier post I likened the process to an archeological dig, but I was wrong, it’s more like a war. The war against Random and Unnecessary Stuff, a lot of which seems to be broken pink plastic, but which the girls insist they cannot live without. Battles are being fought on more fronts that a single person can manage. The insurgents are driven off each morning (figuratively, that is, I make them walk to school), only to return in the afternoon, full of vigour and ready to throw themselves into the challenge of regaining the ground I’ve conquered in their absence. It is driving me mad.
But I have devised a new strategy: after an energetic skirmish in the morning, which usually sees a few key items being carted off to the car, destined for the charity shop or dump, I beat a retreat to the sofa and immerse myself in a book for an hour. I find this restores my mental health, and I can enter the fray for a final round before the opposition troops return. I am currently flipping between Madame Bovary and New Selected Stories of Alice Munro. I am ashamed to say that I have never read anything by Alice Munro before (ditto Flaubert), and I find her a complete revelation. Sharp-eyed and witty, Munro draws deft descriptions of people and places, and somehow expands the form so that each story has the weight and power of a novel. The real revelation for me, though, aside from her elegant prose, is that however hard I might try, I can never see where her stories are going – quite how this incident will connect with that, or what the significance of that turn of phrase or detail might be. This is a feat of extraordinary brilliance, I think, in a short story, where so often it can feel as though the text has been marked up with red pen, so that the reader can be in no doubt where the plot is heading.
So, if you are fighting similar home-front battles to mine and you find yourself in need of a little mental stimulation, I cannot recommend this collection of stories highly enough. I ought to add, too, that even if your life is battle-free this book will do you good.
Very good idea to have an antidote to this clearance frustration. I was doing the same – v e r y s l o w l y – this weekend and found it so disheartening, that all I wanted to do was sit and knit.
Knitting is there on the horizon too – lots of time wasting, no I don’t mean that, I mean planning, on Ravelry!
I keep reading about de-cluttering and I know that although I live alone and have a lot of clear space, there is nevertheless a lot that could be jettisoned, I just can’t get around to doing it.
As for Madame Bovary, I could have quite cheerfully kicked the lot of them up the bottom. I shall check out Alice Munro.
That made me laugh Re Madame B. I’m certain you’ll prefer Alice Munro.
Ha! I shall check her out but I have so much to read at the moment that I am feeling rather overwhelmed.
Love the image of Toffee Apple booting Madame B…that aside, I’ve never read any Alice Munro but I like the sound of it. I am due a library visit so shall check out the shelves…
P.S. I quite like tidying up…(Mr TH is always accusing me of having tidied things away to some secret place so that he can’t find them…)
I loved Madame Bovary having read it once about 4 years ago. I love the bit where she walks across the meadow to her wedding, so bucolic and romantic.
Hate tidying up too though try to do a bit every day as otherwise it quickly turns chaotic with 5 kids.
“a short story, where so often it can feel as though the text has been marked up with red pen, so that the reader can be in no doubt where the plot is heading.”
You are so right about this. I can rarely make myself read a short story as a result. But now I shall stop flipping past Alice Munro’s in my New Yorker.
Haven’t quite started the decluttering yet, although it’s there on the list, so I admire you for that – good luck! Alice Munroe is a new one on me but am always open to suggestions so shall give it a go. I do like the retreating to the sofa idea….
Hi, enjoyed reading your blog. I declutter several times a year and there are just the two of us now. Don’t know where it all comes from. Haven’t started on my new year declutter yet.
The War Against Random and Unnecessary Stuff … I remember it well, especially the pink plastic. Eventually we persuaded our lot that out grown toys could be removed to Grandma’s loft (all but empty then) so that in principle they could be retrieved at any time, allowing of course for the two hours it took to get to Grandma’s. Poor Grandma, her loft is still full of the stuff and the four ‘kids’ are now all 20+ and still loath to part with their ‘treasures’. But at least we have more space in our house.
I’ll give the Alice Munroe a try, I prefer a good short story to a novel these days