I can't seem to get the spare room unpacked.
I know it's been three weeks, but there's some kind of malevolent force at work in there. It's awful. Here's how it goes:
* Walk past spare room and either clock the mess if one of the cats has opened the door or the fact that it's closed - deliberately concealing the mess.
* Feel increasingly guilty. Announce I will definitely be sorting it out now/tomorrow/on the weekend and then it will be done. Receive encouragement and mentally pat myself on the back for my virtuosity.
* Walk into room and realise the reason it's all in here - largely untouched - is that it's 80% crap Ill never find a practical use for but must find space for.
*Resist temptation to say "Sod it" and grab black bags and chuck it out, as I realise the 20% non-crap is essential non-crap.
*Weep internally at the idea of going through every item in the room considering I did that whilst packing so I've already decided to keep it and can't just bin it, because - God Damn It - it's come this far.
*Half-heartedly sort out a few bags then realise the room is actually fifteen degrees hotter than the rest of the house and might actually be hell.
Look, it's not that I'm lazy - well, not just that I'm lazy - it's that packing and unpacking is soul-crushing and offers no reward. Sure, it's unpacked now, but someday, I'll have to pack it again. It's a vicious circle. Surely by unpacking I'm only encouraging things?
*Looks at clock*
*Contemplates Bushire victims who don't have essential crap to sort out, much less non-essential crap*
Oh, all right. I'm going, I'm going!
Man, there's nothing naggier than a blank page, is there?
Couldn't get out of a one room building
15 hours ago