To Konmari or To Not? That is The Question.
After dumping the contents of my wardrobe onto my bed, I looked at the mountain. Just like on t.v. Yay! Two hours later, the collection was reduced to a substantial rolling hill, my enthusiasm ground down to a fine powder. I powered on. It took eight hours. Eight! No Sh*?.
After I repeated the process elsewhere, my sentimentality was no longer intact. Much to the horror of my mother-in-law, I had one knife. One. It was sharp. Very sharp.
Someone Say Kmart?
Konmari made me very suspicious of shopping. Very suspicious. I would question whether there was a genuine need for the item, how much use it would get, and so on. Fark. Seriously. Kmart was no longer the joyful, fill-your-trolley-with-crap kind of place. I LOVED Kmart...
Fold Like a Boss
Oh and the folding. You see, my first job during school was in retail. Ladies-wear. Having walked around the sales-floor with a steam iron with tiny wheels, dressing mannequins, taking instructions from stylists with a magnifying glass looking for creases. Yeah no. I am too far down the path of brainwashed into non-crease submission that I am a lost cause. I fold cotton undies, sports tops, socks, towels and sheets. I do it like a boss, nonetheless. You do need to learn to fold.
I am joyful in a dark, sarcastic OCD kind of way. Maybe not like Marie Kondo. I do get very excited about tidy, organised, squeaky clean, don't-touch-anything kind of spaces.
Hi, I am Marina Harte. I like getting the best out of spaces, especially homes that may be a tad bit messy. I work in Aldinga in South Australia.