A successful and indispensable career, two-storey designer house, an Aston in the three-car garage and abundant entertainment areas. It is a dream for many, yet I’m so so glad we’ve failed in reaching those targets.
The three rooms of our minuscule apartment have turned into a bewildering labyrinth of “stuff”, otherwise known as shite. It may be in orderly piles of shite, but nevertheless it is still stuff that was – once upon a time – thought of as important or necessary, then never given an afterthought.
Ebay pile, charity pile, bin pile, mum pile… take two steps and repeat.