I live in chaos. That is, I am untidy, have lots of frequently changing interests, but very little physical room to put things away. Therefore, there are just untidy piles of things here, there and everywhere in my home. I have even taken over most of my son’s wardrobe, who is himself untidy (who can blame him?) with all.my.stuff.
Every so often I will go on a purging streak, and I do get rid of, give away or donate, a metric ton of stuff, but then I accumulate more.
I think that my biggest heap, though, is the ironing pile. Which is sad, why can’t it be a heap of books, or grapes or something enjoyable? I do enjoy thrifting clothes, which I then wash, iron, wear and then wash again, but this dang ironing pile just seems to gett bigger all the time and threatens to take over my kitchen table from the chair it is piled upon.
I really love thrifting, the thrill of the hunt, the selecting, the feel of winning a prize for just a few Euro. But then. Then I have to iron this stuff and find a place for it in my exploding wardrobe. Then I have to cull the lot that I already own, sifting out things that don’t really fit or don’t really suit me or don’t agree with my changing tastes. Then I go thrifting again and find more treasures, so it all starts over again.
Ironing, what the heck. That’s my heap.
30 Years in Italy 