I've been inspired to try to declutter my home.
I recently watched Tidying Up with Marie Kondo and in one of those whirls of passion I'm prone to, I pledged to downsize.
You would think this would be an easy task as I don't like mess. I can't sit down and work or relax until everything is put away and my space is clean, otherwise I feel jittery and distracted.
But the thing is, I have an apparent problem where I become emotionally attached to items, preventing me from throwing them away.
Because of this, I've accumulated a lot of "stuff" since we've lived in Rotorua and it's getting to a point where I can't just shut it away in a cupboard and forget about it.
Take my three over laden bookcases.
There are books on there I want to read but haven't got around to, books I've read once and probably won't read again and - I'm really exposing myself here - books, like the complete works of Chaucer, that I bought because I like to say I own it, even though I can't read Old English properly.
To top it off, there are textbooks on our shelves from my first year of uni.
Am I ever going to read them again? Unlikely. But the minute I go to donate them, a little voice in my head says, "but Stephanie, what if somebody asks you to have a discussion on the merits of Immanuel Kant and you need a quick refresher, you can't give it away".
So there it sits, gathering dust, while the chances of somebody wanting to discuss the German philosopher with me remains slim.
That's not even the worst example of my hoarding. I still have binders full of colour-coded study notes from Year 13.
It's my 10-year high school reunion this year.
Don't get me started on my wardrobe. It's a good thing we have two double wardrobes in our room as, even having one each, I still have to use my shoulder to shove my clothes aside as I shimmy another coat hanger into place.
I do aim to have a big clean out of clothes once a year, but somehow, there are dresses tucked away from six, seven, even eight years ago that I definitely do not fit anymore but cannot bear to consign to a plastic bag.
My husband is no better. You can't walk into our garage without tripping over something he's stored in there.
Pieces of wood he "wants to make into a breakfast bar", boogie boards, two Christmas trees, tools from various home reno projects, a coffee table that didn't fit into our lounge when we moved and two sets of old shelving units are all filling the space of a two-car garage.
I had hoped watching Marie Kondo would flip a switch in my mind and allow me to say thank you to my stuff then biff it without another thought.
Instead, I've convinced myself our hoard of board games spark so much joy that we have no choice but to keep every single one - even Battleship which is missing a carrier and two cruisers.
Maybe if I start with my husband's stuff, I'll have more success.