All of us marvel at the sheer volume of material possessions we have amassed over the years and frequently tell ourselves that we will get down to clearing out the dross. Somehow the days turn into months and the months into years.
Then, one day, we find ourselves clueless about the whereabouts of some important document which is required urgently. The search begins and mayhem results. Drawers, shelves and cupboards are turned inside out as we look for the elusive material. We are sure we have kept it in a 'safe place' and that much thought went into the choice of that hidey hole. Trying to recollect where we could have possibly kept this precious document is an exercise in futility.
That's when the accusations begin. Blame is passed back and forth like a ping pong ball, with each player bouncing it off and sending it right back where it came from. Eventually, the piece of paper is found in the most unlikely place and once again the charges and counter charges flow freely. There are statements such as "I am absolutely sure I didn't keep it there. You (referring to a person who claims to have no knowledge of the existence of the missing material) must have kept it there".
A recent spring cleaning effort on my part made me realise how easy it is to blame everyone except yourself for a failing memory. However when there is no one else to point a finger at, it becomes difficult to absolve yourself.
As shelves, suitcases, drawers and tops of cupboards were emptied and the contents heaped on the floor, it was a journey of discovery. I had no idea I had so many personal possessions. Diaries by the dozen found me reliving the past as I read details of long-ago happenings which brought back a flood of memories.
There were pieces of paper with phone numbers scribbled on them but no names to go with these. Wondering why I had kept these, I tried to recall if these had any significance but couldn't come up with any valid reason for hanging on to them for so long. So, out they went. I reasoned if I hadn't taken the trouble to jot down the names of the owners of these phone numbers, maybe it was my subconscious at work, telling me in subtle ways that these were best forgotten.
Variety of files
Seeing the tonnage of paper, I went to a stationery shop and bought a variety of files. Important bills, receipts, deposit papers and bank details were stored away in these colourful binders with a description of the contents of each file neatly written on top. Marvelling at my orderliness, I wished I had undertaken this exercise years ago when the management of paperwork was not so forbidding a task.
The hours passed swiftly as I sifted through my belongings. I told myself I must be ruthless and discard anything I hadn't used for long or whose existence I had been unaware of until it was unearthed now. I felt like an archaeologist digging my way through the labyrinths of the past, amazed and delighted at every new find.
Back home getting rid of old clothes, utensils, newspapers, pots and pans and empty bottles is a breeze. One either gives these away to those less fortunate than us or there are always the recycling centres. Or even people who come from door to door looking for old goods.
Thinking of these, one had kept old clothes, hoping to take these home one day for distribution. But that day had never come and here they were still, waiting for disposal.
So, in they went into garbage bags and the watchman of the building was asked to do the needful. Being an enterprising individual, he was sure to make the best use of the discarded material.
What amazed me at the end of this arduous undertaking was the amount of space I now had. Drawers and shelves were no longer crammed and opened easily. The effect was cathartic. I felt light-headed at the thought of having reduced my ecological footprint.
