“Radford House’ was the name of the building I lived in when I moved to London, the first place of my own. The name was elegant, quaint, and I couldn’t say it without smiling.
We’ve all been there, at our open closet doors with piles of sweaters on the floor and empty hangers swaying like the skeletons of the dresses you only wore once; the bittersweet closet clean out. Yes, de-cluttering does release a sensation of endorphins through your mind but, when you turn around and realize that what has been “cleaned out” now just sits in a pile on your floor, the high quickly fades. So, you ask yourself now what? Do you throw it in an orange garbage bag and drop it at a donation box, hand it down to siblings and friends, or do you hopelessly try to sell it on Facebook pages and Ebay?