I accidently took little E and her friend to see Avengers Assemble, and came to a sad realisation that I will never be a proper fan. I have seen shedloads of squeeing, and I thought it was sort of fun, but I had no idea who anyone was apart from Tony Stark, and jeez the bit where they save New York City just went on and on and on. Why are there Norse Gods? Evil Norse Gods with English accents? Why didn't Spiderman turn up?
Very pretty though. Great costumes. Excellent aliens. Some hilarious lines. Avoidance of the 'darker than ever' line. And more actual comic-book cinematography, I'm thinking, than most, without getting into Sin City territory.
Whisper from person near me: 'OMG, Gwyneth Paltrow looks OLD.'
The mega-workload continues. We shall not speak of it
I managed to raise my head above the workload to contemplate the state of the house and why it is so very untidy. I actually think B. really doesn't see it. He arranged an Easter egg hunt in the house for little E and couldn't understand why she missed so many of the little eggs (answer: totally camouflaged by the shedloads of crap surrounding them).
Ruric visited and introduced me to the Tumblr site, Unfuck Your Habitat, which is sort of Flylady for Godless Heathens.
I've come to various conclusions, but the main one is that we have too much stuff. There is new stuff all the time. The dog's illness contributed a giant wire dog cage to the living room. He is better. The cage remains, as does the pop-up pet carrier I got when he was a puppy, which he doesn't fit in any more. It's now in the hallway for me to trip over every day. Five binbags of cassette tapes and VHS tapes, from my research days, which need confidential salvage (at a price). Five boxes of computer photo paper, mostly unused. And on and on and on, in every room of the house.
It's the getting-rid-of which seems to stop me. Take the photo paper. I know I have no real use for the photo paper (it's more reliable and cheaper to use a photo print service), but...someone could have a use for it. There's a kind of value trapped in it, that I fear I would lose forever if I threw it away. I could Freecycle it (I like Freecycle), but the process of listing/choosing/liaising takes its own energy...
My goodness. that sounds pathetic. D: But I can come up with that type of thinking for so much of the Stuff around here.
I dunno, it's like these possessions CLING. I have clothes bagged up to throw away, but I don't get round to taking them to the charity shop. I should give away some of the books that I know I'll never read, but what if I become housebound/we hit a nuclear winter and I realise that I really should have hung on to that Philip Hensher novel that B read.
(The Sue Grafton set is going nowhere, obviously).
Then there's the 1994 Lonely Planet Guide to India and 20 books about motherhood...they're my past! What if I want to re-explore the psychic pain of ealry motherhood? What if I forget I went to India, or someone challenges me to prove it? Without that guide book I'm lost!
I liked that guidebook.
I'm never going to become a minimalist, but I think if I recycled/junked/gave away about 20% of our Stuff, it would be a hell of a lot easier to keep things tidy. I am cautiously embarking on a project to reduce inventory.
I have no clue where to start. Maybe the floor? Maybe get stuff off the floor. All the floors. We have a lot of floors.
Fucking hell, there is a half-made Ikea desk (surplus to requirements, returning it isn't worth the petrol) propped up against this desk, and I DIDN'T EVEN NOTICE.
This might be quite difficult.