The January Purge

January 25, 2016 by Ray Morgan

The January purge

I’ve been chucking out a lot of stuff. Like, a LOT. I should mention at this point that I’m what some people may call a hoarder. I personally just don’t like throwing things away. But I live in a relatively small flat, with my partner, who is conversely very GOOD at throwing things away. You can see where this is going.

Like many other January clichés, along our determination to eat less crap and do more exercise, we decided to have a Big Clear Out. A huge IKEA Billy bookcase once housed all our many, hundreds of CDs, but we decided to pick 25 each that we can’t let go of, and ditch the rest. God, it was painful. Painful because I have so many memories attached to them, but also I know how much money I’ve spent on them over the years. Despite this, I found myself flinging CDs into bags for life to get rid of. It was an interesting process; My Vitriol I could happily ditch, but Joanna Newsom, no, no, she’s for keeps. This went on for some time.

The shelf unit now has the remaining CDs, DVDs, and also books that were previously gathering dust under my bed. So I can accept it was a Worthwhile Exercise. It was the other things that were harder. I found a big box under my bed (it’s like Mary Poppins’ handbag under there) that was chock-full of letters. Letters from people I don’t even know any more. Letters I will never read again. I saved ones from my lovely Gran that she wrote to me when I was started university. They said things like “It is strange you not being here and not seeing you, yet at the same time feels very normal, which I hope it does for you too.” She was the coolest. I definitely kept those. I binned the rest.

I ditched dresses that used to fit; I’m not going to wear them again, am I? That French Connection Broderie anglaise dress I wore to my best friend’s wedding really was a peach, but I don’t feel the need to wear it again. Said friend has had two children since, and I’ve still not worn the dress for a second time. It had a lovely day out, once, and now it’s going to a new home. I lobbed aged socks and shrunk-by-washing pyjama tops into bin-day clothing sacks with gay abandon.

In the end, I think I filled two whole black sacks from my side of the bedroom alone (the wardrobe has similar Tardis-like qualities to under the bed). Black sacks, guys. RUBBISH. Old make up, broken alice bands, knackered bags and purses I’ll never repair. Why was I hanging on to it all? Part of it, of course, is that I’m lazy. This epic clear out took up actual time, time I could be spent watching Food Network, scrolling through Instagram, or looking up recipes for vegan cheese (that I’ll also probably never make).

It took time, yes, but I’m glad I did it. I’d hate to suddenly die and people go through my stuff and say “Oh god, why did she keep these old make-up brushes that have 10 year old crusted blusher on them?” – I’d be cringing from beyond the crem. Throwing things out feels good. Hanging on to stuff is pointless. Sentimental things, of course. I’d have to be some sort of heartless wench to throw out things that my late grandparents gave me, or childhood toys that mean a lot, or romantic gifts from my partner. But the stuff that falls into ‘other’. You know, that doesn’t go in the ‘keep’ pile, but you’d not dare to inflict on a charity shop. Get rid of it. I promise it’ll make you feel better.

At time of press, Ray is still grappling with a whole drawer unit of clothes yet to be sorted, and an entire Sainsbury’s Bag for Life full of hair and beauty products she is not sure she has even opened let alone used. She is calling it a work in progress.