Can you have a Spring Clean in December? Probably not, but I'll give it a go. I have to move out of the House of Mold and Mildew for a month while some nice builder types make my home fit for human habitation once more, and need to move my stuff out as well. This means that I need to clear out 6 years of accumulated guff - old bills, all those books I read once and never want to go near again. All the clothes that I never wear (cos let's face it, Penelope Keith in The Good Life probably isn't the best style icon in the world to emulate) - it's all going binwards or to the Charity Shop. Good Karma for the Badger.
And so in the same vein, I think it's time to clear some of the metaphorical shit out of my life as well. Yummy Mummy has often commented that I have no qualms with cutting people out of my life and it's true - I'm far more likely to hang on to an old copy of Cosmo than I am to someone who's pissed me off royally. I don't cut people out without good reason - you've got to be a real dick to make me go to that extreme, but this morning I realised that there's a lot of crap to get out of my own mental little stable.
A Certain Person (naming no names but he's from Leeds and used to live in Amsterdam) found himself being summarily chopped out of every single contact list I have this morning. I've been 'mates' with this guy for about 3/4 years and it's always been a transient kind of friendship - go out every couple of months, shoot the breeze, have a laugh, no contact in between. I guess he's been a Friend with Benefits. He's a bit weird, not someone I'd take home to meet the parents, I've always thought he's maybe a little bit Asperger's: absolutely no internal filter and a tendency to engage mouth before brain, but we usually have a giggle. Although as I sat there last night listening to him listing my character flaws one by one for no apparent reason, I suddenly wondered what the hell I was doing there. I'm well aware of my faults, I don't need them spelled out to me. And certainly not by a hyperactive northern pillock with a receding hairline and dodgy taste in T-shirts.
So, like my Jackie Collins back catalogue and collection of gas bills circa 2005, he's in the bin. And I feel better for it already.
And so in the same vein, I think it's time to clear some of the metaphorical shit out of my life as well. Yummy Mummy has often commented that I have no qualms with cutting people out of my life and it's true - I'm far more likely to hang on to an old copy of Cosmo than I am to someone who's pissed me off royally. I don't cut people out without good reason - you've got to be a real dick to make me go to that extreme, but this morning I realised that there's a lot of crap to get out of my own mental little stable.
A Certain Person (naming no names but he's from Leeds and used to live in Amsterdam) found himself being summarily chopped out of every single contact list I have this morning. I've been 'mates' with this guy for about 3/4 years and it's always been a transient kind of friendship - go out every couple of months, shoot the breeze, have a laugh, no contact in between. I guess he's been a Friend with Benefits. He's a bit weird, not someone I'd take home to meet the parents, I've always thought he's maybe a little bit Asperger's: absolutely no internal filter and a tendency to engage mouth before brain, but we usually have a giggle. Although as I sat there last night listening to him listing my character flaws one by one for no apparent reason, I suddenly wondered what the hell I was doing there. I'm well aware of my faults, I don't need them spelled out to me. And certainly not by a hyperactive northern pillock with a receding hairline and dodgy taste in T-shirts.
So, like my Jackie Collins back catalogue and collection of gas bills circa 2005, he's in the bin. And I feel better for it already.
