It ain't gonna be pretty
Today is my last day at work until next Tuesday. Tomorrow, I begin a cleaning/organizing marathon at home.
I'm starting with my closet. There will probably be tears.
It's easily going to be the worst job of the week, so I may as well get it over with. How's that for strategy?
To start, I'm stripping the bed. The contents of the closet will be heaped upon it for sorting -- nothing that doesn't fit or that I don't like is going back in.
And the crying will commence.
Between the quitting smoking and the menopause, I've gained a lot of weight and half the clothes in there don't fit anymore.
I haven't worn a dress/jumper/skirt, to speak of, in the last three or four years, yet one entire rod is full of dresses/jumpers/skirts -- because there was a time (four of five years ago) when that's practically all I wore.
I've put this off for a while.
I wonder if there will be an echo in there.
On the bright side: It's time to spring-wash all the woolies!