Friday, 7 October 2011

"Hoarder!" He cried.

Dust in my throat, "This reminds me of year ten," She explains as she sits there wistfully.
Argh, clutter and dust.
"Everything here reminds you of year 10."
A very valid point. He was full of them.
"You enjoyed that then, when you got it and you remember it. You don't need to keep it just because you loved it once."
This had me thinking...
"What happens in twenty years, will you still have all of this stuff?"
Why had cleaning up always taken me so long?
"Some of this I get, but why so much paper?"

I don't know! Lazy, sentimental, longing for the past?
The worst comment by far, "You're a hoarder!"
Horrendous images of food waste rotted into carpet, animal filth, and worthless objects stacked to the roof filled my mind. Me, like one of those hoarders on TV?! Why was I shocked, I had always felt empathy for those old wrinkly ladies with a habit of collecting animals, house full of dirty starving strays or the fat man, with 'bargins' filling his lounge room. It can creep up on you.

This had. Initially he could see that piles of clothes and cushions were filling the floor space and gathering clumps of dust. I lifted. Piles moved onto my bed. Cleaner, as the Dyson moved around the room. Sucking in dirt, plastic scraps, cobwebs from the roof.

There was no where for the piles to li, the cupboards contained memories and irreplaceables. I am stuck now, I need to move on and cull so I can be reborn as a twenty year old, not ten anymore.

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