Well, yes, that's what normally happens at the start of every January for me. However, I have to pause and recall a past declutter session which went awry. In fact I came very close to A Declutter Too Far. That's a bit like A Bridge Too Far but without the guns.
Several years ago, when my girls were probably about 4 and 7 I was looking in their rooms before a decluttering day and I decided that they had Too Many Dolls. Yes, there were way too many for two children to play with, that much was very clear. I mean, c'mon, how many dolls do two girls need for goodness sake? So, it was decreed that several of the dolls must go to the local charity shop which, I told the girls, would give them to children without any toys. Okay, not strictly accurate but I was decluttering! Sometimes you have to stretch the truth a little bit don't you? Don't you?
Neither girl was very happy about giving their precious dolls away, but I was insistent. "I'll come back in half an hour to see which ones you want to donate." Fair enough?
So, off I went to begin the frenzied sorting, recycling and tidying. A bit later I went upstairs to find see how they were getting on with sorting the dolls, and overheard this:
Daughter aged 7: *sobbing* "..and don't forget that I love you, but I hope another little girl will love you just as much as I do"
Daughter aged 4: "I love you too, but Mummy says you can't live here anymore...." "weeping*
I looked in on them, sitting on the floor hugging their beloved dolls, and sobbing uncontrollably. How cruel can one mother be?
Oh, the shame. The absolute, unforgiveable shame.
Of course I told them that they could keep the dolls, because we didn't have as many as I'd thought (ahem). But the agony didn't stop there, because then both girls jumped up and hugged me, crying "Oh, Mummy you're so kind, you're the nicest Mummy in the whole wide world..." I tell you, I couldn't have felt more ashamed than at that moment.
So...all you manic declutterers out there, be careful. Don't say you haven't been warned.