With not a moment to lose and while his car is still crawling down the driveway do you open the back door to your clandestine visitor.
There she is the Feng Shui lady. She arrives complete with a set of mirrors for all occasions and a three-legged frog that doesn’t need a pond and will sit happily with a coin in its mouth at your front door to encourage prosperity. Seconds later she's assembled her trolley to remove all the stuff you're about to part with into the skip that’s arriving any minute now. You're spending the day together and there's much pleasure in store.
There are too many messy people living in your house and it’s driving you insane. When you try and explain to the messy people their behaviour is lowering the value of your property and reducing the quality of your life together it falls on deaf ears. That's why you've succumbed to this illicit rendezvous.
That’s even before you've mentioned the “chi” word to them and how important it is for life-force energy to arrive at your door in a good mood and to move unhindered throughout the house. They’re too absorbed in their own worlds and oblivious to the effect their dumping around the place is having. It’s one darn shoe after another. If you wait for everyone's approval to rectify the problem - or expect them to do it - you'll wait a lifetime.
As the person who does care and is aware of the impact this is having on everyone under the same roof, it’s time to assume your title as Facilities Manager and start kicking arse around here before the river of chi bursts its bank. The cost of a Feng Shui correction is a snitch compared with 360 days wear and tear on the property - and on your psyche.
What school, college or University do you know that allows its pupils to bring whatever they want into the building and plonk it wherever they like - and wander off? What organisation do you know that allows paperwork to high rise on surfaces, dirty dishes to pile up on tables, and clothes to trail across the floor? Furthermore they employ cleaning angels who breeze through the premises overnight working to the remit of the Facilities Manager preventing the river of life silting up and business grinding to a halt.
Once upon a time I lived with a hoarder. Thank goodness he now lives on the other side of the channel because I swear he’d star in Britain’s Biggest Hoarders. We met just as I was completing my Feng Shui training and took up residence together. The irony was I owned the house but his stuff occupied two-thirds of it.
Repeated attempts to have him pare down led to no progress at all. So I had to cheat on him and enrol the help of my lover, Hestia, the Greek Goddess of the Hearth, to come to my aid.
Repeated attempts to have him pare down led to no progress at all. So I had to cheat on him and enrol the help of my lover, Hestia, Goddess of the Hearth, to come to my aid.
True confessions. For one whole week while he was away on a training programme I beavered away. I didn’t just tackle his stuff, I finely-tuned my own. I didn't remove anything of his you could absolutely describe as valuable and sentimental. Besides what is more valuable than your physical, mental and emotional health and this behaviour was an early indication of dis-ease. Call me a wicked witch if you like but I’d had enough. Besides how could I go forth into the world as a Feng Shui consultant when my own home wasn’t in order.
Towards the end of the final day with the third car load full to straining and my partner due home within the hour, I was ready to make the last trip to the skip. But where’s the car key? Where’s the bl**dy car key? It could be anywhere in this junkyard. Was this my guilty conscience playing a trick on me or my partner getting his own back for cheating on him? Thankfully Hestia came to my rescue before a melt down and I drove away with a sense of relief.
What did my partner say on his return? Absolutely nothing. He felt the difference in the home for sure but was mindfully unaware of what the cause was to the same degree he had been mindfully unaware there had been a problem in the first place. Best of all he never reproduced such a surplus while we were together - but he’s obviously gone downhill since.
“I wouldn’t be happy if she did that to me,” I can hear muttering in the background. My response to that is: Well live on your own then. What makes one person more important than the other members of the household they allow their stuff to dominate the home?
And when your life is compromised by another who is not taking responsibility for theirs there is a case for cheating on your partner - or evacuate the building. Since by default you are the Facilities Manager of the home (because somebody has to be) then why not step up and get on and do a good job. And may the flow be with you.
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