House for sale Bring on the frantic decluttering

The real estate photographer is coming, giving me a firm deadline … I must declutter, writes Joanna Davis.

If your home has become a battlefield of disorganisation, you are not alone. I’m marching to the frontline here, because my need to declutter has become urgent. I’m listing my house for sale, which means the photographer’s coming, which means … oh dear, how did I accumulate so much stuff in five years in this house?

It occurs to me if I lived here for 40 years, I’d almost certainly be in hoarder territory.

However, I also like a deadline. With a date set for the photographer, this cleanup is actually going to happen. He even plans to take video, which means moving things from room to room ahead of the camera is not going to cut it.

There are different ways to tackle decluttering, and we’ve written plenty about them at Stuff.

A relatively new one on me is the 90/90 rule. It is credited to Joshua Fields Millburn, TK Coleman, and Ryan Nicodemus of The Minimalists.

Much like other wildly popular decluttering methods, this one involves asking yourself two very simple, straightforward questions:

■ Have you used this item in the past 90 days?

If not, will you use it in the next 90? You can change up the time-frame depending on the type of item. So you could use a shorter time-frame for food in the pantry, and a longer one for expensive tools in the garage.

With this in mind, I decided to tackle my drawers and closet to see how I fared. This is what I’m dealing with:

■ That jersey with the unflattering neckline … Yes, it’s merino, but I don’t wear it because it’s kind of ugly.

I have dresses that I always think I’ll wear, but it turns out they’re more Laura Ingalls Wilder than my own self-concept. I have three “dog walking” jackets (I wear one of them). As ridiculous as it sounds, and indeed is, I have four denim jackets. At least two of them were hand-medowns from my adult daughter.

I also have several pairs of jeans that do not fit me – if they ever did.

I’m not a person who loves shoes, or gets the slightest pleasure from them, and yet, I have 20 pairs. A ridiculous number! In my case, I can also add the question, has my daughter worn this item in the past 90 days, or is she likely to in the next 90?

(It may well even belong to her, in which case a quick shuffle to HER wardrobe also does wonders for cleaning out my own.)

Even so, it’s easy to fill boxes to drop off at the secondhand shop.

I turn my attention to the kitchen cupboards. Muffin tins, weirdly-sized springform cake tins, a wafflemaker, adozenmugsthataresurplustoour household of three’s requirements, 15 small ramekins (unused) … I’d like to say I put those out for donation, but truth be told, I put them in a big box labelled “kitchen” and stashed it in the garage.

After that I stalled, and realised this solution did not go far enough. I couldn’t face doing it to food items in the kitchen cupboard – even though a quick glance at the cinnamon revealed it was best before December 2019.

But now the photographer is coming in less than a week. I move on to an even more drastic decluttering technique, this one specifically recommended for people putting their house on the market: remove half of everything.

It’s not attainable, of course, but it’s a heck of a push goal. I remove storage furniture from a bedroom and the bathroom.

It turns out they were just sites for accumulating junk – there really is enough storage for three people in the bathroom with just one large vanity unit.

I put away a beanbag we never use. I take unrepairable outdoor furniture to the dump, and unused bikes to the recycling drop-off. I give away some house plants. They all spark joy, but sorry Marie Kondo, you’re just not radical enough for a house for sale.

I move my home office, usually located at a wee dedicated table off the kitchen so I can be amongst it when everyone’s

home, to an actual spare room. That opens up the dining area.

As well as decluttering, depersonalising is also advised when you have a house on the market, so I take down framed family photos, remove all the notices and pictures from the fridge, put away pill bottles that typically lie around in clear view, and stash away my kids’ school books.

The idea is to allow people to see themselves living here, making the place theirown.

But I have to admit, I’m starting to think this is a place – ordered, peaceful, tidy – that I’d like to live myself.

QUESTIONS TO ASK YOURSELF

Does this spark joy? (thanks,

Marie Kondo)

Have I used this item in the last 90 days (some opt for ‘one year’)?

Am I likely to use it in the next three months/year?

■ If I didn’t own this, would I buy it again?

■ Am I keeping this because it’s sentimental to me but will be of no interest to anyone else (see Swedish death cleaning)?

Do I have something similar that does the same job?

Is this item broken, stained or otherwise beyond repair?

TODD STARR This teenager’s room contained more furniture, and the floor was never clear.

GETTY IMAGES Going through your clothes and doing a big throw-out is strangely satisfying.