The boyfriend returned from a weekend away with his choir yesterday. So last night we were talking about his flat and the fact that neither of us actually wants to spend any time there. “Maybe you would like it more if you were actually there occasionally,” I suggested. “Maybe,” he agreed, “and maybe I would also like being there more if I actually unpacked properly and tidied up a bit.” Then he added “But I’m not as bad as you”. How mean is that?! I asked him what he meant and he told me that he may not sort anything out or put it away, but at least he doesn’t leave everything on the floor. Such cheek! Firstly, I don’t leave everything on the floor (half of it is piled up on my desk!) and for secondly those things that are on the floor are there because I have nowhere else to put them! I lost my job 3 months after moving in here, and even when I was employed I wasn’t earning enough to furnish a whole flat all at once. So I still have no wardrobe, no bedside tables and nowhere to put roughly half of my kitchen stuff. But Jan was right about one thing… the flat was in a pretty bad state last night (refusing to do any housework whatsoever on my birthday combined with a weekend of baking stuff for parties then failing to put stuff away afterwards because I had to rush off to said parties had taken its toll on my flat). And on Saturday I am having people over for a belated birthday celebration-cum-flatwarming party thing. So today I have scrubbed and swept, rearranged and put away, tidied and organised… and it’s still not finished! But I did come up with a solution for my lack of furniture. In my entrance area/kitchen kind of thing (which is not actually a kitchen according to my contract) there is a cupboard. My clothes currently live in that cupboard, at the side furthest away from the kitchen. In the middle there is a space to hang stuff and at the other side is a cupboard without shelves where I keep my cleaning stuff. But all along the top there are smaller cupboards which, until now, I had only been using the bottom shelves of because I can’t reach any further than that. So today I climbed up on a chair and placed loads of the stuff that was residing on my bedroom floor – up against the walls I might add. Stacked neatly. Not in the middle of the floor – Jan totally made me out to be worse than I am – are now on the top shelves of the cupboard. Yes, it’s just the adult equivalent of shoving everything under the bed and pulling down the sheets, and yes it probably means I will now forget about the stuff that’s up there and never be able to find it again. But at least my flat is going to look nice and tidy for my guests on Saturday!
Oh, and in the course of my tidying and sorting I actually tracked down all the recipes I had printed out or written down and put them into a ring binder. They’re not in any particular order or anything (I would like to organise them properly at some point) but they are in a folder, where I can actually find them when I want to cook something. And that means I can cross off number 80 on my list of 101 things. Yippee!