Space, the final front room

Sausage sandwiches all round and we were set. After I carefully placed all important paperwork into a few carrier bags, Bing and Babyboy pulled out every last piece of furniture for me to vacuum behind before we moved something else into its place. I took breaks to log onto freecycle as we worked, some things snapped up almost immediately, others left on-list to face their fate at the tip on Monday.

My olde-worlde Goodmans separates hi-fi system was ruthlessly culled, left as just an amp and equaliser to feed. I wasn't mourning for long, the new hdd media centre and the link from the old desktop - now known as the family server - proving a more than ample meal that provides all the main nutrients of movies, photos and music from one tiny, little box and spreading goodness through the TV and big, massive speakers I simply refused to part with.

The only item of furniture that remains in it's original place is the bookshelf. Partly because I fear it would fall apart if moved but mainly because it fits perfectly into a particularly imperfect section of the weirdly shaped room.

As night falls we sit in different places and my peripheral vision focuses on the bookshelf. All three of us are exhausted but I know that tomorrow brings the real hard work. Going through the carrier bags of memories and obligations, deciding which of them are still fit for purpose and which I want to throw away.

Nothing to do with physical clearing out and everything to do with emotional spring-cleaning. I am, as I type, girding my loins and desperately hoping for sunshine to make my soul lighter as I decide which parts of my life I want to keep and which I don't, whilst convincing myself that throwing old rubbish out doesn't mean I'm in denial of its existence...