"Can't Have Anyone Over Syndrome." I gots it. It doesn't matter how much I try to avoid it, it takes such a short time before everything I own gets pulled out and piled on the floor.
I remember touring the Filoli mansion with Michael years ago (it's a stunning estate south of San Francisco). We were both smitten with the green ballroom. Michael said the only way he would ever be able to live in such a lovely space was if he died and haunted it. I said, "Me too (I thought that was a great idea)" but Michael firmly said I was not allowed to come help him haunt the ballroom. His reasoning? I would just line the walls with unfinished craft projects. He's right. I would have.
I recently tried to declutter my house and really, really clean. I started with my bedroom and removed everything black. I love my Parisian inspired barkcloth drapes but they were falling apart and full of holes so I took them down (I still love them though). Out of the room they went.
I then removed the 1940s floral hooked rug with a black background that I was always tripping over. And then I just starting taking out everything that even slightly bugged me. Single socks? I didn't have any patience anymore with the idea that their runaway mates were ever coming back. Out. And there were way too many pillows in that room. Out. What was all that stuff that got crammed under the bed? I didn't even look inside the boxes of whatever that had been under there for years. Out.
And once I took everything out and washed, dusted, sprayed, and dry-cleaned what was left, this is what my bedroom looks like now (I am still stunned that this photo was taken in my house... my house!).
Ha ha ha. That bra hanging off the chair in front is a nice touch. Gawd.