Sleeping with the enemy

Like a Ryanair flight, it was a long time coming, but it had finally arrived. I had to clean my room. It wasn’t a decision I took lightly. In fact, it had taken many sleepless nights, various stubbed toes and a bunch of broken bric-a-brac. It had gotten so bad that the only real available floor space was the few inches required for the door to open.

The first thing that needed clearing was the bed. For longer than I care to remember, piles of random detritus had been building up on my double. When you end up sleeping in a corner of the bed ‘cause that’s all the space there is left for you, you realise it’s time for action.

So, feeling particularly emboldened, I decided that I would sift through all the stuff, and anything that didn’t immediately go in the bins (regular and recycling) or the laundry basket was divided into three piles: clothes, bags and accessories, and “other”.

The clothes pile, unsurprisingly, ended up turning into 3 piles.

The pile of bags and accessories was small and unremarkable. The pile of “other” was neither.

What follows is a list of all the crap I’ve been sleeping on/under/beside for the last... oh, eons.

*deep breath*

1 letter from a close friend; 2 dustbags (one for my Chanel handbag, one for my Cole Haan shoes); 2 CPD compliance cards (for work); 1 face scrub; 3 birthday cards; 2 moisturisers; 1 tube of toothpaste; 1 mini hairbrush; 1 lipstick; 2 mascaras; 1 rubber band; 1 packet of silica gel (“throw away, do not eat”); 1 paper clip; 1 diffuser nozzle for new hairdryer; 1 A4 ring binder; 1 gift bag from Hallmark; 2 passport photos; 1 notepad; 9 pens (anyone who knows me well – one person, really – knows about my unintentionally extensive pen collection); 1 packet of moistened toilet tissues; 1 eyelash curler; 1 Tube map from my trip to London; 1 mint; 1 dry-cleaning bag; 1 blister pack of multi-vitamins; 1 fault report card from Eircom; 2 packets of throat lozenges (from my suspected bout of swine flu); 1 leaflet on the Lisbon Treaty; 1 National Lottery envelope (3 stars on a scratch card!); 1 book with misleading title (“The Pocket Stylist”, a hardback book measuring 6x10.75inches!); 1 packet of tissues; 1 tea towel; 1 shower gel; 1 pair of iPod headphones; 2 cleansers; 1 can of bug spray; 1 can of Febreeze; 9 Mars bars (yes, 9!); and 15 clothes hangers.

And that’s not to mention all the stuff that’s on my bedside locker, my bookcase, my chest of drawers, my two wardrobes, my desk, my shelves, my chair, my floor...

*pauses to catch breath*

You now have a small insight into my life.

Scared?