I decided to be brave and spend some of my hard-earned cash on a gardener. He has made fantastic progress with the front garden, aka Messy Anonymous Spiky Green Stuff Central. There’s a lavender bush that is still OK, a leucospernum which is still trying to flower, an anonymous shrub and two enormous gum trees to start with, and then there’s the who-knows-what mess in between, all knotty and scrubby and too hard for me to tackle on my own.
I am once again horrified at the amount of clutter that has invaded my family room and kitchen. I was pretty good about throwing out stuff, keeping on top of DD’s toys, my correspondence, filing, and so on, but another bout of illness threw me for a loop. I feel embarrassed to let people see the mess.
First thing is to sell the cot since DD’s in a big girl’s bed (her term, not mine). Plus the second car seat and the bottle steriliser. While doing that, I need to throw out a heap of out-of-date magazines, newspaper cuttings that weren’t used for a chapter I never wrote (a long, sad story), and there’s the back shed. Oh boy. The Back Shed – definitely needs capitalisation. It looms at me, stuffed to the gills with junk and maybe only 5% of useful things. I need to wear a cap for protection against spiders dropping on me, long-sleeved shirt in case of creepy crawlies jumping up my arms, sturdy boots in case I tread on something icky, and hold a phone in case I get bitten by something … who knows what is in my shed! Yes, I know. I’m making it sound like Indiana Jones and the Back Shed of Doom. If you laugh too hard, I’ll make you come and help me. 🙂