We live in a cyclical world where seasons are ever-changing and patterns are repeating. We recycle everything from cardboard to old jokes. We see this echoed primarily in the film industry, to the detriment of scriptwriting morals and high standards. Paul Blart: Mall Cop 2, take a bow. But there comes a time, (take note, Hollywood) when you just have to let some things go.
Take, for instance, your wardrobe. People constantly warn us against binning questionable items of clothing because you never know when it will come back into fashion. Because it would truly be the worst thing in the world if boot-cut jeans were in again and we had to cower in shame as we walked to purchase new ones in our retro skinny jean. I doubt Miriam O’Callaghan was hoarding that choker since 1998.
And just who are these people doling out this advice? Are they secret hoarders? Do they live atop five feet of old newspapers and useless trinkets from their childhood? Human beings are strange creatures in how we attach sentiment to the most bizarre of items. Photos and gifts are understandable, but we make excuses for treasuring useless items. I used to religiously collect cinema ticket stubs for fear that someone was going to pop quiz me on what I was doing on November 5th, 2005.
So we start playing Fashion Police and bidding farewell to the ponchos, boleros and gypsy skirts. Your chunky belts and bandanas are gone to a better place now. Alas, it does not stop there. Once you start the spring clean, it sucks you in like a whirlpool and you realise you cannot possibly have a clean wardrobe in a dirty house. Cue heavy dance music and scrubbing up like you’re about to go in to surgery. Cleaning the house is like studying; you put it off for as long as you possibly can and then once you start, you realise it’s kind of enjoyable. Sure, some 23 year olds might get their kicks from alternative highs and not the citrus smell of Flash emitting from their sink but each to their own.
There are only two modes of cleaning: try to cram the frying pan into the dishwasher or wanting to hoover up everyspeck of dirt there ever was and ever will be, à la Monica Geller. Why not use your Easter break to expunge your house of all traces of excess junk as well as chocolate? It will be like you have been resurrected from the dead. Pun intended.
Next up: To date, I have 1,409 emails in my Hotmail account. It’s going to be a long night.