It has come to the time where I have realised that whilst I have the capacity to acquire more, my one bedroomed flat no longer agrees with me. Every conceivable surface is taken up. My clothes don't fit in my wardrobe or rails, shoe boxes lie everywhere and books are piled high despite with 16 x 16 foot of book cases that is chock a block with them.
Listening to a programme about compulsive hoarders I snorted, thinking at least I'm not exactly collecting my fecal matter in ice cream boxes...but they mentioned one woman who doesn't throw away water bottles. A quick glance down by my bedside revealed about 15 different bottles - from Dubai, India, funny ones that say "Women's Water" that I bought in a health food store in Australia and hulked back with me. You see if I get a nice water bottle - no not a Nalgene or a Sigg, just a plastic bottle, I keep it. It's nice. I get upset at the thought of throwing it away. I think I have a problem.
But, this isn't about giving stuff away, crushing your possessions or not buying things for a year. This is my celebration of stuff, and my never ending desire for more - more clothes, more TV, more magazines, more books that teach me useless facts to triumph at pub quiz, more countries to visit (29 and counting).
What will I do? The solution no doubt awaits in a storage special of Elle Decoration.
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