![Ready to clean. Picture Shutterstock Ready to clean. Picture Shutterstock](/images/transform/v1/crop/frm/MUwv8t3Wj4u7LSUBpSbqhh/4251fe18-8a36-4952-8d75-87c22b4b5328.jpg/r0_264_5161_3166_w1200_h678_fmax.jpg)
When I was a small child there was nothing that would bring me more pleasure, well apart from a visit from the Mr Whippy van and a fresh episode of Gilligan's Island, than packing away my Lego.
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Yes, packing it away. Sure, there were hours of fun to be had in the building and creating but there was something so satisfying, deeply satisfying, in packing it all up again. I had a container where I could separate the blocks by colour, or sometimes I'd be a rebel and organise them by block shape and size.
Everything had its place and life was good.
As an adult, I've continued to find solace in being organised. I can recognise now when I'm beginning to get sucked in by the downward spiral when things are starting to get out of control. All it takes is a few moments to sit with my diary and write a few things down, tick a few things off, get everything sorted.
One of the things I enjoyed most about moving home a few years ago was, firstly, the culling of 30-odd years of stuff.
Fortuitously, the move coincided with the Marie Kondo series on Netflix and a new book. I felt good asking myself about what it was that brought me joy now, whether I wanted to take this item into my new place, into my new start. Many, many things didn't make the cut.
Since then I've decided I am quite happy living with less stuff. Indeed 2022 became the year of not buying stuff. I don't need any more vases, just more flowers to put in them; or any more platters, just more friends around my dinner table to serve. It's September and I've pretty much stuck to that. I've lashed out and bought a new dress because I couldn't resist it. The only new homewares are the simple things I made myself during a recent pottery course. It's been a great lesson in restraint.
I've always enjoyed the compliments when people have visited about how neat and tidy my house is. I must exude a sense of calm. Ha. If only they knew.
For one of the things that does worry me is that I don't clean well enough.
I do get excited talking to people such as Katrina Springer. She runs a successful blog, The Organised Housewife, and her new book The Clean Home is full of tips and tricks to get your house sparkling. And perhaps, in turn, your life a bit more shiny.
Does anyone else suddenly freak out when they notice the dust that collects on skirting boards or is that just me? I worry, that in the two years I've lived here, I've never once wiped down the bathroom tiles beyond the ones I can reach on my tip toes. I dare not think about what lurks behind the refrigerator.
Perhaps I need to eventually read Kerri Sackville's book, The life changing magic of a little bit of mess (HarperCollins, $24.99) which has been sitting in my pile of carefully stacked books to read on my bedside table for a while now.
I've been following Kerri's advice in recent years since I interviewed her about her book Out There: A Survival Guide for Dating in Midlife. Not that following said advice has provided any benefits, let alone friends with benefits.
Perhaps her "non-cleaning" book would work better with dusting off the cobwebs, so to speak?
Sackville talks about the very cluttered, ironically, world of "aspirational home management". All those influencers telling you how to do things. All their bookshelves organised in rainbow stripes, their fridges full of matching containers with the week's dinners prepped and ready to go. Do all this and you too "can achieve domestic perfection".
There is one small detail that remains unclear, she says. "Why does anyone need a perfect home?"
Springer also embraces the idea that "imperfectly perfect is good enough". She's the first to admit she's no expert, just a regular housewife sharing hints about what works for her.
I'm kind of caught in the middle. I hated the idea that Jessica Rowe once wrote a book about being a crap housewife. Who wants to celebrate being crap at anything?
Yes, good enough is close enough, but everyone's definition of "enough" is what works for them and if it means I'm on my hands and knees wiping down those skirting boards then that's where I'll be.
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