I used to have a floor. I remember it well. I’d walk on it. Parts of it had carpet on it. It was nice. My floor though, has been under attack from the accumulation of stuff: toys, clothes, pushchairs, car seats, baby baths… and with every Christmas, birthday, grandparent visit or dedication, the stuff expands and the floor diminishes.
Sure the ‘stuff assault’ first robbed me of my storage spaces; the cupboard under the stairs, the loft. But it wasn’t long before the spare room went (we even had to put a kid or two in there), the dining room, the living room. They all fell. My garden didn’t escape either, and is now largely overrun by hand-me-down push bikes and scooters.
The floor of my house and the grass of my garden are like gravity. I know gravity exists because I stay sucked onto the earth and don’t float away, but I can’t see it. I know my floor is under the stuff because I don’t sink through into an abyss, but I can’t see the floor either.
I can’t see the situation improving any time soon so I’ll have to embrace the chaos. Barely a month goes by without some sort of gift appropriate occasion and my house it fit to burst. But, in positive news the ceiling is getting closer and I’ll no longer need to stand on a chair to change a light bulb. .. which might free up a bit more space.